Blue Moon and Black Lightning
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: When a native islander's life and children are placed in jeopardy, he turns to Roarke for help. Follows 'My Friend the Mermaid'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _There is more of this in the future, of course, but I thought since this story begins on Leslie's birthday, I'd post the first chapter on my own birthday (sheepish grin). There will be a few blasts from the past throughout the tale. Thanks as ever to Harry2, jtbwriter and PDXWiz, and thanks also to Woemcat for inspiring me to finish off the series of tales I was posting under my FantasyIslander65 account, so that I can devote that account to other fandoms. Enjoy!

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_§ § § -- May 6, 2005

Leslie awoke on a Friday morning only to see Christian propped up on one elbow, gazing down at her with a faint smile on his face. Her eyes were bleary and out of focus with sleep, and she blinked several times to sharpen his image, rubbing them before peering up at him again. "What's with the specimen-under-a-microscope look?" she mumbled.

Christian's smile stretched into a mischievous grin. "You must have slept really hard last night, my Rose," he remarked, sounding greatly amused. "Did you forget what today is?"

Leslie scrubbed both hands down her face and yawned at the same time, then favored him with a somewhat disgruntled look. "No, I didn't forget, but in case you need convincing, I'll tell you anyway. Yes, I'm very well aware that today is my fortieth birthday. So I repeat, why the intense stare?"

"Just wondering what forty does to you," he said breezily, but there was an odd quality to his voice that told Leslie he was trying to hold back a laugh.

"You watch out, Christian Enstad, or you'll be finding out what forty does to _you,"_ she threatened, poking him in the chest and making him lose control over his chortling. She grinned back finally and propped herself up to match his position, reaching up and rapidly ruffling his dark hair with one hand so that it stood up in Dennis the Menace tufts. "Okay, smarty, so what _does_ forty do to me, in your exalted opinion?"

"Nothing at all," he said, still laughing and trying to dodge her hand. "But, since your fortieth year has been among the most eventful of your life, I wondered whether there might have been some significant change in your appearance. They do say that children have a way of prematurely aging their parents."

"Maybe you, buster, but not me," Leslie retorted, giggling.

"I wonder," Christian admitted good-naturedly. "I found myself staring at a gray hair in the mirror last night while I was brushing my teeth."

Leslie toppled back onto her pillow with laughter. "Oh, stop the presses, he found a gray hair! Christian, my love, if I can look as good now that I'm forty as you do at nearly forty-seven, I'll die happy. Where was it?"

"Oh no you don't," he said, grinning. "I pulled it out. Despite everything I've gone through between marriages from hell and the manipulation of my father and brother, that was the first gray hair I ever saw on my head, and I'll admit to having grown so used to the lack of them as to take it for granted. I never thought I'd fall victim to petty vanity, but the next thing I knew I was thinking, _Perhaps I can keep them at bay till I'm fifty, when people will expect me to begin going gray anyway."_

Leslie shook her head, clucking her tongue at him in mock reproach. "Christian, Christian, Christian. What on earth am I going to do with you? I'm supposed to be the one moaning about aging, and you're panicking over a stray gray hair."

"You have no room to talk about aging, Leslie Susan Enstad," he teased. "I'm the one with nearly seven years on you."

"Huh, and I'm the one whose life is half over," said Leslie, stilling and blinking at her own statement the second she'd made it, then looking up at him with mild shock. "Oh my God, my life really _is_ half over! I mean, if the average female lifespan is about eighty years, then I'm right at the halfway point! Do you think we'll live to see our grandchildren? What sort of longevity does your family normally expect?"

Christian rolled his eyes, grinning again. _"Herregud,_ it's Jekyll and Hyde. One moment the rational one, the next moment the panicking matron-to-be. For someone who generally takes these things in stride, as a newly minted forty-year-old you're acting quite paranoid. Who says your life is half over? You may well live far past your eightieth birthday; many people do, you know. My own family could be said to be a mixed bag, I suppose. Grandfather and my great-grandfather died in their sixties, but it was shown that amakarna was a significant factor in their passing, and if they had never taken the stuff they probably would have well surpassed that. I might have known Grandfather into my twenties or even my thirties. And my father, in spite of amakarna, lived to be eighty himself—probably because that old man was just too damned stubborn to die. I think he enjoyed giving me hell so much that he just couldn't let go."

Leslie giggled. "I think you inherited the stubborn gene from him, my love. If it does you as much good as it did him, you'll probably mark your centennial in the middle of this century. You could set a royal-family record."

"Not quite. I'd have to reach 103 to set a new record, thanks to Queen Freyja II. But that's so far away I see no reason to think about it now. So tell me, other than a mild case of sticker shock, do you feel any different now that you're forty?"

"No, I don't, really. But let me just give you fair warning. If you give me any guff about being 40, I'll take careful notes, and in three years when you hit 50, I'll give it all right back to you and then some. So just watch yourself."

Christian raised both hands in surrender. "Mea culpa, my darling! I'll do my best to be good, but I can't make any promises for any of our friends. If you get this, uh, guff from them, don't accuse me of having put them up to it, that's all I ask." Despite their words, they were both laughing, and now he settled atop her and kissed her at leisure while a brisk sea breeze swept over them through the open window.

At last Christian lifted his head and smiled at her. "Happy birthday, my darling. Now I officially know what it's like to kiss a forty-year-old."

She seized a pillow and walloped him with it, bowling him back over to his side of the bed while they both burst out laughing again. "You rogue! Just wait, my incorrigible prince, your turn's coming, believe me!"

Breathless with laughter, Christian weakly tried to fight off her pillow with both hands. "Okay, okay, I give up! Well, how's this then?—I've just kissed the most beautiful forty-year-old woman on this earth."

"Well, that's better," Leslie said, pretending to huff, but then spoiling the effect by dissolving into more giggles. "Good grief, did someone put knockout juice in the triplets' formula last night? I'd have thought we'd be hearing from them by now."

"We will," Christian said, still a little winded, his voice tinted with the experience of the uncle he had been for so long before becoming a father. "Trust me, my Rose, we will. While we still have something resembling a respite, I think you should get up and have a shower. Don't look at me like that—you know perfectly well we'll have to make the rounds today, and just wait till this evening when I start uploading photos to the site." He still maintained the royal family's official website, frequently updating it.

"I hate to admit it, but you have a point," Leslie said through a sigh. She grinned and swung out of bed. "Want to join me?"

Christian made a pained grimace. "You don't know how tempting that is, my Rose, but even with Ingrid here, I don't expect we'd have the luxury of taking full advantage of a shared shower. However, don't worry—I have plans. So that should give you something to think about while you're getting ready."

By the time they were ready to leave for the main house two hours later, the triplets were lively and alert, bright-eyed with what Leslie would have sworn was mischief if they had been much older. "They must know something's going on," she said.

"Of course they do," said Christian, securing Tobias in his car seat. "I'm in on all the plans, and I'm excited about it, and they sense it. Well now, you three, tell your mother happy birthday, then. And be generous about it, your turn comes up in only four more weeks, you know." He grinned at each child in turn; Tobias grinned back, and Susanna and Karina both giggled. Susanna waved her hands through the air and her parents laughed.

Ingrid emerged from the house with two large canvas bags, one bulging with diapers, bottles and other baby paraphernalia, the other containing mysterious items that Leslie couldn't identify. "Hmm, that wouldn't have anything to do with my birthday, would it?" she asked Christian coyly.

"It might," he said, grinning. "Get in the car so we can leave, and you'll find out all the sooner. _Är du färdig då, Ingrid? Vi åker borta nu."_

Ingrid deposited the bags in the very back and climbed in after them, saying as she did, _"Ja, Ers Höghet, alla är berädda på festarna."_

Leslie followed the exchange carefully and squinted a little as she settled in the front seat, translating it into English. "Okay," she mumbled half to herself, "so you asked if she was done and we're going now, and she said everything's ready for the…" She stopped and stared at Christian, who had been watching her while fastening his seat belt. "Parties, plural? Just how many are we expected to attend, and how come you're not moaning and groaning at the fact that there are parties to go to?"

"In the order you asked, yes, plural; I refuse to tell you just yet; and I'm not 'moaning and groaning,' as you say, because these are parties for your birthday. This is much different from making public appearances in the name of the royal family. Our first stop is the main house, though, so you have plenty of time to think about how intensely you're going to grill Mr. Roarke when we arrive." He grinned wickedly and backed out of the driveway while she shot him an _I'm gonna get you for this_ look that dissolved into a laugh.

Roarke came out to meet them as they were freeing the triplets from their car seats. "Good morning, all of you! I hope you didn't have breakfast before you came."

"No, except for the triplets' morning feeding," Christian told him, adjusting his hold on Karina while Ingrid settled Susanna in his other arm. Dr. Corbett had told them Leslie could continue breast-feeding the triplets each morning first thing as long as her milk held out, though Leslie had some hope of fully weaning them once their first birthday had passed. "They've grown used to having solid food along with it, though, so I'm sure they'll be happy enough to join the rest of us." He started for the steps, trying to keep a firm grip on his wriggling daughters, who both clearly wanted to go to their grandfather for attention.

Leslie, carrying Tobias, laughed. "Look who's happy to see you, Father."

"Indeed," Roarke agreed, deftly accepting both girls from Christian at the same time. "Yes, you two, I'm very glad to see you both as well! I hope you are ready to help us celebrate your mother's special day today." Susanna and Karina both chattered nonsense as though in reply, and he chuckled and nodded, responding in Spanish now and again.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear he understood whatever they're trying to tell him," Christian remarked as Leslie caught up with him.

"For all I know, he does," she said lightly, and he aimed a skeptical look at her that made her laugh. "Don't discount the idea too quickly, my love. Well, since you told me you're in on all the plans for today, then what's for breakfast?"

By the end of the day Leslie was tired and a little lightheaded from all the excitement. She and Christian and the triplets had been making the rounds of all their friends' homes, starting with Camille and Jimmy, who still lived in a small Asian residential settlement that had long ago been dubbed Tokoyama, though it wasn't an official name; then they'd been to Brian and Lauren's home, Kazuo and Katsumi's townhouse, and then Nick and Myeko's farmhouse. After that there'd been a long detour to the combination office and house overlooking a beach near the fishing village, where Fernando and Tabitha ran a small medical clinic and were raising their two children, eight-year-old Cristina and four-year-old Ramón; and finally they had ended up at Grady and Maureen's house, where Brianna was more than happy to watch the triplets and her own ten-month-old sister April while the adults had their little gathering.

At each stop, the couples had presented Leslie with a birthday card, most of which mentioned the fact that she was turning 40, and talked a little, catching up, talking about each other's children and finally confirming plans for the main party to be held that evening in the clearing where the Saturday-night luaus were usually held. Leslie knew there would be far more people there—not necessarily the entire island, as had happened at hers and Christian's wedding reception, but certainly the extended families of all her friends, including parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews.

So as Christian drove her and the triplets there, she was beginning to feel the fatigue of the busy day. "Do you think you'll get through the party all right?" he asked. "Normally I'd offer to take you home early, but I'm not sure that would fly. After all, this is your birthday party, and it's strictly friends and Mr. Roarke."

"Oh, I'll make it all right," Leslie assured him, patting his thigh. "It's just that we've been on the go all day long, and I'm feeling it. But I'm not in imminent danger of collapse, if that's what you have in mind."

Christian laughed. "Maybe I exaggerate a little because I worry about you, but in the years we've been together, you're usually right about your condition…so I've learned to worry a bit less. But if you do feel overtired later, just let me know and I'll take care of it."

Leslie twisted in her seat enough to check on the triplets, who were engrossed in watching scenery going by or, in Tobias' case, tugging at the straps that held him in place in his car seat. "What amazes me is that the babies are going strong."

"Little wonder," Christian remarked, grinning and slowing the car. "They napped all the way through our stops at the Miyamotos' and the Okadas'. They had a chance to recharge, where you didn't."

"Then if I conk out in the middle of my own party, nobody better blame me," Leslie said, and Christian laughed again, pulling over to the side and parking. They unstrapped the triplets, and Christian settled the girls into Leslie's arms while he took Tobias; then they headed for the clearing, from which already emanated a good bit of noise and music.

When they got there, everyone crowded around Christian and Leslie, greeting her and wishing her a happy birthday; the triplets stared huge-eyed at the crowds, their faces masks of astonishment. Finally Roarke managed to cut through the crowd, to the relief of Christian and Leslie, and lifted Susanna from Leslie's arms. "You seem to have survived your little trip around the island," he noted humorously.

Leslie grinned. "So far so good," she agreed. "Well, is there someplace we can sit?"

"Follow me," Roarke said, and Christian and Leslie, with smiles and nods at the others who had gathered, picked their way after him till they reached a long table that was laden with a three-tiered birthday cake and a stack of gifts. Between two poles stretched a banner that read, "FORTY AND FABULOUS! Happy Birthday Leslie."

Leslie burst out laughing when she saw it. "Oh my gosh, I think this is getting to be a theme. Ten years ago the banner read 'Thirty and Thriving.' I wonder what they'll do ten years from now when I turn fifty."

Christian grinned and suggested, "They can just recycle mine. After all, I have a feeling I'll have to face a similar bash in three years." Leslie nodded, still laughing, and he chuckled, securing Tobias into a high chair before pulling out the so-called "seat of honor" for his wife and then putting Karina into another high chair.

"What do you think the banner will say then?" Roarke teased, settling Susanna into a third high chair while Christian claimed the seat nearest Leslie. "You did mention a theme."

"Probably 'Fifty and Fantastic'," Leslie said, "though like Christian said, they should make up that one for his fiftieth when it gets here and then save it till mine rolls around."

"Oh, no way," broke in Myeko, who stood nearby with her sister Sayuri, brother Taro and Taro's three children waiting behind her. "Just to warn you now, Christian, we're probably going to whip up something royal-ish, so brace yourself."

"I'm likely to need the full three years to do that bracing, if that's really what you end up doing," retorted Christian, setting off laughter. "All right, then, so if fifty is fabulous, then I suppose sixty will be spectacular."

"And seventy will be stupendous," offered Sayuri Sensei, who held Taro's youngest child, Tia, ten months old.

"Right," Myeko said, smirking, "and eighty is exceptional, ninety is nifty, and—"

"And a hundred is just old," said Leslie, rolling her eyes. She looked at Christian and remarked, "Did you notice how I go downhill after eighty? From exceptional to just nifty. I think I got cheated." They all laughed again, while at the same time Tobias in his high chair and Tia in Sayuri's arms stretched toward the cake, which they'd both been gaping at in fascination. "Hey, Tobias Lukas Roarke Enstad, you better sit back. You're a tad young for Mommy's cake, I'm afraid."

"Don't you worry about that, Miss Leslie," said Mariki, pausing beside the table where she was just passing by with a large paper bag in each arm. "I made a treat for the triplets and any other little ones who can't have party cake yet. I put together a nice big banana cake, no frosting so they don't get high on sugar. Made from scratch, of course."

Leslie grinned at her. "You never do it any other way, and that's one of the best things about you. I hope you've got something in mind for the triplets' first birthday next month."

Mariki beamed. "I'll think it over and get back to you, how's that? Let me get this ice cream over there before it all melts." She hurried off, and people began to find places to sit, even if only on the ground in the cases of many of the children. There were a lot of people; not all the members of her friends' families were there, but all those who lived on the island certainly were, and even a few who didn't. Of those, this included Tommy Ichino and his wife and family; Jennette, the youngest quad and her husband and little boy; and even Kayoko Tokita Matsuda and her husband Kiichiro with their children and a grandchild. They were representing Michiko, who couldn't be there; had she been, Leslie suspected the entire Tokita family might have been here as well.

Kayoko and Kiichiro introduced themselves to Christian with bows, and after a while they got to talking; the Matsudas were planning to return to Fantasy Island for good, now that Kiichiro had just retired and their children were grown and gone. Kayoko was a still-youthful 52; her husband was four years older. Roarke, recognizing Kayoko as one of the guest assistants he'd had during most of the 1960s, greeted her with a broad smile and joined in the conversation.

"Guest assistant?" Christian echoed blankly.

"A little experiment I conducted for nearly ten years, through the decade in which Leslie and her friends were born," Roarke explained. "I eventually phased it out, but for a time a number of island children earned a little extra money that way."

"And I was one of them, Your Highness," Kayoko put in. "As a matter of fact, back in 1965, one of the guests I played assistant to was none other than Leslie's mother."

"Well, there's quite a coincidence," Christian observed, impressed. "Do you remember very much about her?"

Kayoko grinned. "She was very, very pregnant," she said, making them laugh. "That's the main reason I remember her. After all, doctors don't like for women that heavily pregnant to travel, and it must have taken Leslie's mother some coaxing for her doctor to give in and let her come so far, so late in her pregnancy."

Leslie smiled a little wistfully at Christian. "It's my understanding she was here less than two weeks before I was born. Any later than that and I could've been born right here on the island." With a teasing glance at Roarke she added, "Dual citizenship."

They laughed again. "Well," said Christian, "you must have gone through some type of citizenship ceremony not long after you came here."

"I didn't get citizenship till shortly after my fifteenth birthday, actually," said Leslie. "It was something of a late birthday present. The weekend after my birthday, Father called me into the study, just as I was about to head out the door with Tattoo on some rounds, and said he needed my help with something. Then he had me sign a form, presented me with a passport, and pronounced me a citizen of Fantasy Island. It was very simple, but it meant the world to me, because the wish I made when I blew out my birthday candles was that I could stay on Fantasy Island forever."

"We were there for that too," said Kayoko. "It was quite a bash, that party."

Leslie grinned. "I still have the knickknack shelf Kiichiro and Saburo made for me," she said, referring with the latter name to Kayoko and Michiko's oldest brother, who still lived in Hawaii. She turned to Christian and added, "It's the one we hung on the wall beside the French doors in our bedroom."

"Ah, I see," said Christian. "I always thought that was exquisite woodwork." He smiled when Kiichiro thanked him, then offered, "So you're looking to return here?"

"That's what we're hoping. Kayoko still holds her citizenship, and we thought that coming here for Leslie's birthday would be a good time to start looking for a suitable place to live. We'll get started in earnest tomorrow, I think."

"Hey…the house that Mateo and Anna-Kristina lived in hasn't sold yet," Leslie noted. "You two might like that. It's a good size for you, with a guest bedroom for whenever your kids and grandkids come to visit. Christian's niece and her late husband had lived there and took very good care of the place. All it needs is a buyer."

Kiichiro and Kayoko looked at each other, brightening. "It sounds perfect," said Kayoko hopefully. "We'll definitely take a look at it tomorrow, then."

Myeko, approaching with a plateful of fruit, overheard. "Hey, you guys're moving back? That sounds great. Does Michiko know?"

"We thought we'd wait to tell her till we actually found a place, but it looks like we can let her know sooner than we thought." Kayoko grinned. "Hi, Myeko, you look good."

"Thanks," Myeko said. "Must be old home week or something. My little brother Taro brought his kids back from Samoa to live here. They're looking for a place too—right now they're staying with my parents." She glanced around. "I'd introduce you, but the kids seem to have gotten off someplace. Taro's at the buffet."

"What do the kids think of Fantasy Island?" Kayoko asked.

"They're reserving judgment," Myeko remarked, grinning. "I figure it's on account of their having to readjust to new schools, but I think they'll have a chance to make some new friends at this party, with all the kids running around here."

It was just about then that Stephanie Sensei decided to make her way to the buffet, with her seven-year-old brother Noah dogging every step and driving her crazy. She had hopes that if she gave him a plate of food, he'd be distracted and leave her alone. Playing with the homemade bracelet on her left wrist, she edged along the perimeter of the clearing, shadowed by Noah. The buffet was crowded, but she got in line and picked up a plate, then handed Noah another one. "Don't drop it," she warned him.

"I won't," the boy promised solemnly. "Do they have any hot dogs, Stephy?"

"I don't see any," she said, cringing inwardly at the nickname. Since their mother had walked out, Noah had been very clingy, hanging all over their father when he was home or her when their dad was working and she was babysitting him and little Tia; and more than that, he seemed to have regressed a little bit. He hadn't called her "Stephy" since he was four years old, and till their parents' divorce he'd been a voracious eater. Now all he seemed to want was hot dogs and cupcakes.

"I want a hot dog," Noah said stubbornly. "With mustard and onions."

Stephanie made a face. "Well, there aren't any," she muttered, losing her patience. "It looks like they have lots of teriyaki chicken, though." She tugged again at the elastic string that held the oversized glass beads of her bracelet in place. "That's sort of close to hot dogs, and it really tastes good."

"But I want a hot dog," Noah insisted. Stephanie growled deep in her throat and turned to him to scold him, only to see a couple of girls not far away who looked as if they might be about her age. One of them caught her eye and smiled at her, and she returned the gesture, hoping she might finally make a new friend. The move from Samoa would be a lot more bearable if she could just have a friend to hang out with.

"Hi," said the other girl. "Are you new here?"

"Yeah, but my dad grew up here," said Stephanie. "My name's Stephanie Sensei."

"This is Denise Polidari, and I'm Haruko Miyamoto," said the other girl, indicating a girl whose dark-brown hair was cut short and who wore small-lensed, horn-rimmed glasses. "How old are you? I'll be fifteen in August."

"August what?" Stephanie asked, amazed. "I'll be fifteen in August too—the tenth."

"Mine's the twenty-second," said Haruko.

Denise smiled shyly and spoke up for the first time. "Mine's April seventeenth, so I guess I've got you guys beat." She had an interesting accent of some sort, and Stephanie wondered about it. "How come we haven't seen you around school?"

"It's a pretty big school," Haruko noted. "Heck, even you and I didn't meet till this party!" She turned to Stephanie. "I eat lunch with three other girls, but it's always cool to have new friends. I already invited Denise to join us. Want to be part of our group?"

"That'd be great," said Stephanie, delighted. Haruko seemed really nice, and she was glad that it looked like she'd finally have friends here. "Sure, thanks."

"Where'd you move here from?" Denise asked.

"Samoa. I was born there, and we lived in the same house all my life till last month when we came here," Stephanie explained. "My parents got divorced, and my dad brought us back here to live. Are you from this island?"

"No," said Denise, "I'm from Massachusetts. My mother and father got divorced too, and since my mother was born and raised here, she brought us back to live here. My older sister Janine hated it, though, and last summer she went back to live with my father's parents. I guess she's just gonna stay and go on to college there." Denise grinned. "It's okay with me. She was a pain in the neck, complaining all the time, and it was such a relief when she went back to Boston. It's so nice and peaceful in our house now."

Stephanie laughed with her. "I can understand that. I've got a baby sister named Tia—my dad has her around here someplace—and this is my little brother Noah. He just turned seven."

"I have a sister the same age," Haruko said. "Her name's Chikako."

"That sounds Japanese," Stephanie noted.

Haruko nodded. "I was born in Japan, but I've lived here since I was six." She reached for a plate and suddenly spotted Stephanie's bracelet. "I really like that bracelet!"

"Thanks," Stephanie said, automatically restraining Noah from reaching across the table for a plate crammed with little cheese cubes. "Noah, quit. These're all the rage in my old school in Samoa—every girl in my grade wears them and we all make our own, out of elastic string and big glass beads in all different colors."

"That's wicked cool," Denise remarked, impressed, studying the bracelet. "Maybe you could show us how to make our own. We could start a fad." She grinned.

"Look at that pale-blue one," Haruko marveled, inching closer to get a better look at a large, clear ice-blue bead, the biggest one on Stephanie's bracelet. It sparkled in the torchlight, the flames reflecting off its many facets. "That's gorgeous."

"My mother gave it to me," Stephanie said. "Right before she left, she helped me make the bracelet." She tried to shake off the memory; it was one of the few recent good ones she had of her mother. "So it's…kinda special, I guess."

"You really miss your mom, huh?" murmured Haruko sympathetically.

"Sometimes," Stephanie said evasively. What she really missed was the old Iriata Sensei, the lovely, laughing woman who had always been so easygoing and so involved in her children's lives. She'd already changed a lot when Tia was born the previous July, and Stephanie had always thought Tia was much too quiet a baby, as though she wanted to avoid Iriata's increasingly frequent losses of temper. She shook her head. "Anyway, I looked around for more like that one, but I never really found any. The beads we use always have really bright colors, or else they're clear like ice."

"Maybe we can find some in town," Haruko said. "If we all get together tomorrow, we could go looking. The pedestrian section of town is a shopping area, and it's always full of tourists and stuff, but it'd still be fun to go there."

"Yeah, I need someplace to spend all my lawn-mowing money," Denise joked. "If you want, we can hang out at my house. My mother works at the island newspaper, and she has weird weekends—Tuesday and Wednesday. She won't be home tomorrow, and maybe if I ask, she'll leave some money so we can order pizza. She'll be glad I've finally started making some real friends from the island. All my school friends are from Coral Island."

Noah had come to attention in the middle of this and now asked eagerly, "Pizza? Can we have pizza, Stephy? If they have pizza here, I'll have lots of that."

Stephanie blinked at him, amazed. Noah's weird food preferences had excluded all but hot dogs and cupcakes for so long that it was astonishing to hear him ask for something else. "Should've known it'd be pizza, though," she murmured to herself before adding, "Tell you what, kiddo, let's ask the lady behind the table."

"You do it, Stephy," Noah said immediately.

Stephanie tossed an apologetic smile in Haruko's and Denise's direction, and the girls grinned sympathetically. Once she'd secured a slice of pizza for Noah, Denise remarked, "He's a cutie, your little brother."

"He's okay, I guess," Stephanie said with a shrug. "Kinda picky about what he eats, though. I can't believe he went for pizza. All he eats anymore is hot dogs."

Haruko laughed. "My parents won't let us touch hot dogs. That's why I eat them at school whenever I can. I wonder if he's in my sister's class. Chikako's finishing up first grade, and she told us a couple weeks ago that there was a new boy in her class."

"Yeah, it was probably Noah," Stephanie agreed, shifting her bracelet again from longtime habit. "My dad has to work tomorrow, but I shouldn't have any problem getting away. We're still staying with my grandparents, so they can watch Noah and Tia. I think they'll be glad to see me get out and be with friends."

"Cool," said Denise. "Well, it's nice they've got pizza for the kids, but if Mom'll let us order in, then I'll wait till then and have some of the other stuff. A lot of this is luau food, I think. Mom brought me and Janine to a luau right after we moved here. I thought it was really cool, but Janine was just a big pill and sulked around all evening." She shrugged. "Anyway, the food was wicked fabulous, so I'm gonna have what I had that time."

"What's that mean, 'wicked'? I mean, you say it like it means something else, and not what it usually means," Stephanie said curiously.

Denise turned pink and grinned sheepishly. "Aw, it's just something we say back home. If something's wicked fun, it means it's really, really fun."

"Oh," said Stephanie, intrigued. "So where do they say that?"

"New England," said Denise. "Even my mother picked it up. She moved to Boston when she went to college at Harvard, and she never left till she and my father got divorced. Since we got back, people here tell her she has a Boston accent too." The girls laughed. "I know tomorrow's gonna be wicked fun. Can't wait."

Stephanie grinned at her. She couldn't wait, either. It looked as if this move was going to work out much better than she'd been afraid it would, at least for her. Now if Tia would be a little more like a normal baby, and Noah would expand his personal menu, and her dad would stop looking so grim all the time…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _My additions to this story may be a tad erratic for a while, as my father passed away on August 26 and the family is still handling the aftermath, emotional and otherwise. But writing seems to be therapeutic for me, so I'll keep plugging and post as I can. A heartfelt thanks to Mishee for the recent wonderful reviews; you can't imagine how deeply they're appreciated! (To answer your question, I kind of implied that Mr. Roarke had celebrated his birthday with Leslie, at least during her teen years, but never really delved into it. The TV series mentioned it once, but never hinted at his age…though you got the sense that he had a far longer lifespan than "regular" humans, because when he described past events, it sounded like eyewitness accounts. Even his wife commented on that! I may explore this in a future story; thanks for the idea!)_

* * *

§ § § -- May 9, 2005

Christian and Leslie were watching the triplets playing with toys on the living-room floor, while Ingrid shuffled loads of laundry into and out of the machines and they themselves were going through the day's mail. Some of Leslie's birthday presents lay atop the coffee table, including her favorites—the second-season DVD set of "King's Castle", along with the autobiography by Paloma Esperanza, which dealt heavily with her years on the series. The book had been signed by Paloma, to Leslie's delight, and her friends had jokingly congratulated Christian on giving her the present she liked best of all.

Christian set aside a few bills and unearthed a small but rather heavy package with stamps from Lilla Jordsö. "Well, this is interesting," he mused, turning it over in his hands a couple of times before extracting his penknife from one pocket and slitting the brown wrapping. "Obviously this came from the family, but who knows just what it is."

"More presents, maybe?" Leslie offered facetiously. She already had a small pile of _jordiska_ artifacts sent by members of the royal family, some useful and some decorative.

Christian worked off the wrapping and started a little as a collection of paper fell into his lap. "What in fate's name?…oh, they can't be serious." He had tugged one of the items at random out of the pile and shaken it open to reveal the previous Friday's edition of _Sundborgs Nyheter,_ Lilla Jordsö's largest newspaper. The headline was naturally in _jordiska_, but that didn't prevent Leslie from correctly gleaning its English translation. Christian read it out loud: _"Glada Föddelsdag till Prinsessa Leslie!"_ There was a photo of Christian and Leslie under that, a still from their televised appearance with the triplets on a popular _jordisk_ Sunday talk show the previous fall. Leslie reached over and peered curiously at the paper, testing herself as to how much of the text she could understand, while Christian poked through the rest of the items and found that every one of them mentioned Leslie's fortieth birthday. At the bottom of the pile was a note in Anna-Kristina's handwriting, jocularly urging them to enjoy the various papers, magazines and tabloids. "My niece's folly," he muttered.

Leslie giggled. "This is funny. They never even noticed last year or the year before that—not once since you and I got married. Only now when I hit forty do they bother to wish me a happy birthday. Those ridiculous vultures."

"Oh, pffff," scoffed Christian, shaking his head. "I'd have stronger words than 'ridiculous' for them, but it's your birthday, my Rose." He watched her checking out the various photos that had been printed in the publications and finally started to chuckle reluctantly. "I suppose this means you've 'arrived' in _jordisk_ society. They just couldn't resist lauding you, as my wife, for reaching the age of 40."

A baby called out then, quite close by, and they both looked over to see Karina, on her feet and clinging to the edge of the sofa cushion next to Leslie, watching them with sparkling hazel eyes and a big four-toothed grin. They both laughed, and Leslie smoothed the child's hair, just thick enough now to be brushable. It was growing in sleek and straight, in a deep-caramel hue that was darker than Leslie's hair but lighter than Christian's. Tobias and Susanna shared their sister's hair color. "We didn't even see you there, sweetie. My goodness, pretty soon you and your brother and sister will be up and walking, won't you?"

Karina babbled in reply, and her parents laughed again while Leslie set the papers aside and scooped her daughter into her lap. Tobias threw a soft cloth ball across the room, demonstrating a surprisingly good arm, and rolled onto his hands and knees, speeding across the floor after it, while Susanna followed her brother's example by flinging away the rag doll she held. It landed behind the end table next to Christian, just barely missing the lamp, and Christian groaned playfully, rising to retrieve it. "If they're going to throw things, we should build a nice big empty room beside the upstairs bathroom, pad the walls and let them pitch to their hearts' content."

Leslie laughed, nodding. "I'll say. So when are you going to post all those birthday pictures on the family website?"

"I dare not," Christian admitted, giving the doll a gentle toss in Susanna's direction and watching his daughter crawl after it when it landed short. "With these three as active as they are right now, I think it's better to wait till they're napping before I leave you to endure their antics alone. That's probably why I still haven't uploaded the wedding photos." They had both been utterly stunned when Anna-Laura had called on April 25 and informed them that Roald had been married the previous day to Princess Adriana of Arcolos, Errico's daughter and Michiko's stepdaughter.

"Oh, so that's it," said Leslie. "Tabitha asked me about it last week, and I had to tell her I wasn't sure, maybe you were just busy. Look, my love, Ingrid's here, she can help me keep these imps in line. Why don't you go ahead and do it now?"

Christian hesitated, staring dubiously at her. "You're very sure?" As if to underscore his father's trepidation, Tobias threw his ball again and chortled when it bounced off Karina's head, making Leslie's eyes widen in surprise. Karina blinked and stared at her brother, and Christian tried to smother a grin.

"Well…" Leslie began, pretending to think it over, and he let the grin have its way and grow into a laugh. She grinned back. "Go on ahead. Once these three go down for their afternoon nap, I want to get into town and pick up some things. I noticed you're getting low on printer ink again."

Christian raised a brow and inquired, "How did you see that?" She just grinned, and he rolled his eyes playfully. "Then we may as well go in together. I wanted to drop in at my office and grab a couple of things I left behind yesterday."

They left just after putting the triplets in for their nap, and after a stop at the bank they went to Enstad Computer Services. Everyone was there except for Beth, whose day off it was as well as Christian's, and the others expressed surprise to see him. "Busman's holiday again, huh, Boss Prince?" inquired Jonathan.

"Just retrieving some things I left by accident," Christian said. "How's traffic today?"

"Busy," Anton spoke up from his desk. "We're keeping up with it well enough, though, thanks to Taro over there. You made a shrewd choice hiring him, Christian."

Christian looked over to the side of the room where Taro Sensei sat deeply engrossed in the repair of a computer tower, a studious frown on his face. "Yes, he's been a very good worker," he agreed, strolling over to Anton's desk and gathering up some paperwork from one corner to check over it. "Too good, possibly. Sometimes I think he's going to outdo me. Is there a report yet from the Santi Arcuros branch?"

"It came in this morning," Anton told him, digging through a stack of mail on the desk and extracting a large mud-brown envelope. "I've been going through so much paper today, I never even opened it." The phone rang and he muttered something in German that sounded questionable enough to evoke a smile from Christian; Anton looked up, caught it and let out a sheepish chuckle. "The phones have been insane today, too. Good afternoon, Enstad Computer Services, Anton speaking."

Christian plucked a letter opener out of a thick stoneware mug on Anton's desk and slit open the envelope while Anton pressed a button, put down his receiver and called across the room, "Taro, phone's for you." Leslie caught up with Christian and looked on over his shoulder while he pulled out a small pack of paper, held together by a metal brad in the top left corner, and began to peruse it.

"What, again?" Taro grumbled audibly. "Thanks, Anton." Both Christian and Leslie looked up and watched him pick up the phone.

"Does he get a lot of calls?" Christian queried idly.

"Ehh…mostly it's his parents. He does have a baby daughter, doesn't he? I suppose they're just getting used to caring for her while he's here working," Anton said, shrugging. "It's been a few years since they had a baby in the house, he said."

"Nobody forgets how to take care of a baby," Leslie remarked, amused. "Myeko was always going to her mother for help when she had Alexander, and got a lot of good advice from her. Maybe Taro's little girl has colic or something."

"My sympathies to him if she does," Christian murmured, flipping a page, his attention back on the report. He had started to smile. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Errico seems to have put his money where his mouth is. The Santi Arcuros branch is turning some very tidy profits, even after the five-percent deduction for Michiko's charity. We may be able to afford to celebrate the triplets' first birthday after all."

"Oh, you," Leslie said, snickering and playfully batting his arm with the back of her hand. "We're not hiring a three-ring circus or a Disney character to come out for their party, you rogue."

"But those quilts are going to run us some serious money," Christian bantered back, "and I just wanted to be sure we could pay for them." Leslie made a face and he laughed; and at the same moment Taro slammed down his phone with a crack that made everyone in the office turn around and stare at him.

"You okay?" Julianne asked a little tentatively.

Taro looked a bit startled when he realized that everyone's attention was on him. "Oh," he said, coughing, clearing his throat and smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. Your Highness…I just got a call from the elementary school. My son…well, I'm afraid I'll have to go and get him. I'm sorry, I hope it's all right. I'll be back after I've taken him to my parents'."

"Your son?" Christian repeated blankly.

"Noah," said Taro. "He's seven. It seems…he threw a tantrum in the school cafeteria when his class went to lunch and he found out they weren't having hot dogs."

Jonathan, Julianne and Leslie laughed; Christian quirked an amused eyebrow, and Anton peered at Taro with an odd sidewise look. "Hot dogs?" he said dubiously.

"A staple for American kids in particular," Leslie said. "They taste pretty good, but they have a bad nutritional reputation. Sorry to hear that, Taro, good luck."

"I'll need it," Taro murmured, setting down an electronic component and rising from his chair. "I'm sorry, Your Highness."

Christian shrugged good-naturedly. "Don't let it bother you too much, Taro. Children make life interesting. Go ahead and don't worry about it."

" 'Interesting', my love? That's quite a euphemism," Leslie teased as Taro strode to the door as though in a hurry.

He smiled slyly at her. "Just wait, my darling Rose, till our three become mobile, articulate and aware. They'll have food preferences, they'll have fights, they'll have strange dreams and imaginary monsters for friends. They'll develop their own personalities and they will definitely have peculiar escapades both in school and out. It's how things are with children. While they're still relatively easy to deal with, take your cues from Taro's example just now, and our friends with children under ten, and brace yourself."

‡ ‡ ‡

Taro kept casting bewildered glances at his young son, who sat slouched on the seat beside him, arms folded over his chest and his lower lip sticking out as far as it would go. They were riding the island shuttle bus back to the neighborhood where Taro and his children currently were rooming with his parents, and Noah hadn't spoken a word since Taro had arrived at the elementary school to pick him up.

He released a long breath and let his mind wander, trying to understand what had happened to the sunny little boy he remembered back in Samoa. It was probably Iriata's fault, he figured; all roads seemed to lead back to her eventually. Ever since she'd left, things had been weird. No, he thought suddenly, frowning, they'd started getting weird even before then. He had to consider it very carefully, but he was pretty sure it had become noticeable not too long before they'd learned she was pregnant with Tia. She'd begun to lose weight and had a lot of extra energy all of a sudden; he remembered the lavish, busy birthday parties Iriata had organized for Stephanie and Noah that year, and how she slept less during the night, but much more soundly. She went to bed after the rest of the family and woke up before anyone else, but in between she was utterly dead to the world. Taro had tried to shake her awake and failed once. There was just something unnatural about that.

And she'd gained almost no weight during her pregnancy either. This had pleased her no end, though her doctor had worried enough to issue several stern warnings about low birth weight in the fetus and other possible consequences. In itself that wasn't much of a surprise. After all, Iriata was a former Miss Samoa, and she prided herself on her beauty and her slim figure. What didn't make sense to him was that she had never complained about gaining weight during her previous two pregnancies.

Then there was the way she'd bankrupted them. Taro knew it was her fault, that the savings he'd so carefully built up over the years had begun draining at an alarming rate and he hadn't been able to make her understand that they needed that money. "What about the kids' college education?" he'd demanded urgently. "What if something happens to me and I can't work anymore? Where's all this money going?" She had only turned away, telling him primly that she needed it, and refused to offer any further explanation. When it had finally occurred to him to grab what money remained to them and tuck it into an account accessible only by him and not her, there had been less than five thousand dollars remaining.

Taro winced, remembering the screaming fit she'd had when she discovered the money was no longer within her reach. "I need it! I need it!" she'd kept screeching, over and over, without embellishing. When he'd adamantly refused to give in to her temper, her soft coaxing, her pleas, her tears, she had appeared to give up. Foolishly, he'd thought the matter settled—till he got notice from the bank when Tia was six months old that repayments were due on a huge loan she had taken out against his business. He'd confronted her with this that very evening…and the next day she had walked out, never to be seen again. He'd been forced to sell his business and their house at a financial loss, and the only thing he had been able to do was take the money he had squirreled away from Iriata and use it to bring Stephanie, Noah and Tia back to Fantasy Island to start fresh.

The bus lurched to a halt near the small Asian residential settlement, about a mile or so west of the hospital, where he'd grown up, jolting him back to the present. "Come on, Noah, time to get off," he said, rising. Without a word Noah trailed him, still looking rebellious and ready for a good fight.

His father, just about to retire from his job as CFO at the company that ran the ferries between Fantasy Island and Coral Island, wasn't home; but his mother, Junko, was folding laundry while a soap opera played on TV. She looked up when Taro and Noah came in and paused, but without surprise. "Not again," she said with sympathy.

"Yeah, again," Taro confirmed wearily, ushering Noah up the stairs and into the living room of the split-level ranch house where he, his twin brother Tomi, and their sisters Myeko and Sayuri had grown up. "Trouble is…this time they suspended him."

Junko stared in astonishment at her grandson, who stomped into the living room and dramatically threw himself into a chair, slouching low on the cushion. "Sneakers off, Noah," she reminded the boy gently, and Noah's scowl deepened, though he obeyed her. "They suspended him because he wanted hot dogs?"

"Because he threw a king-sized fit when they didn't have any in the cafeteria," Taro explained, removing his own shoes before coming up the stairs in Noah's wake. "The way I hear it, he deafened half the people in the lunchroom, and he could be heard as far as the closest four classrooms to the lunchroom doors." He snorted, taking another chair. "That's kindergarten behavior. I can't figure out what the problem is."

"He misses his mother, Taro, that's what the problem is," Junko said.

"Well, why's he blaming me? She's the one who got up and walked out. I don't even know where the hell she went." At a reproving look from his mother, he corrected himself grudgingly, "Okay, heck."

Junko chuckled and resumed folding clothes. "How long does the suspension last?"

"Till next Monday," Taro said moodily, staring at the TV screen where two actors were exchanging threats. "Good grief, Mom, you actually still watch this junk?"

"It's cheap entertainment," she said with good humor. "And considering the scene that's been playing out over there for the last several minutes, it just serves to remind me that adults can be as petty and childish as kids—they just show it differently."

Taro grunted, uninterested in the soap opera or whatever lessons it might have to teach, which he privately thought wouldn't be worth much anyway. "I suppose so," was all the concession he would make. "Mom, I can't figure out what to do about this. I mean, he won't eat anything else."

"He's been uprooted, Taro," Junko said patiently. "And considering the way it happened, it's going to be an issue. Eventually he'll adjust, but it'll take time."

Taro stood up and shook his head. "Well, I can't wait that long, at least not on this. No more hot dogs—at all, period. You can eat whatever else is in this house, Noah, but we aren't buying any more hot dogs just for you. This stuff has got to stop." He returned to the foyer and stepped into his shoes. "I've gotta get back to work…sorry, Mom."

Junko watched him leave, then looked at Noah, whose scowl had crumpled into a look of horror. "Gramma…" the boy protested.

She wasn't about to go against Taro's decision; it was her policy not to undermine her children's discipline of her grandchildren, even if she herself disagreed with the method. "I'm sorry, Noah," she said. "But your father's right. You can't eat only hot dogs for the rest of your life. You won't get all the good stuff that helps you to grow up strong."

"But I promise I'll never yell and scream in school again," Noah begged.

"Honey, that's what you said the last time," Junko reminded him, and Noah started to cry. "There are lots and lots of other yummy things, and you can't have hot dogs every single day—that's just not good for you. Do you want a sandwich for lunch?"

"No," Noah screamed and leaped out of the chair, racing for the bedroom he was sharing with Taro. A door slammed, rattling the framed pictures in the hallway, and Junko winced, then shook her head. She thought about inviting Nick and Myeko and their children over for supper; Dawn, going on three, was as voracious an eater as Noah used to be, and maybe they'd help set an example.

§ § § -- May 15, 2005

"That's the last freebie, kiddo, sorry," said Hotaia Sese, handing his sister a Mason jar filled with a thin black fluid. "You want any more, you'll have to figure out a way to come up with the money."

She took the jar and cradled it against her chest as if it were a baby. "It's gone, Hotaia, I don't have any left. Please, you can't do this to me!"

"Then start hockin' stuff, kiddo. My supplier won't give me anything else till I can pay him, and I can't pay him till you pay me. I know you're not so dumb you don't understand that. It's a business, just like any other one." He grinned, showing a row of stained teeth spotted with gaps where some were missing altogether. "And I ain't lettin' you run mine into the ground like you did your ex's."

She reddened. "I had to. Taro caught on to me and transferred the ready cash into an account I couldn't get access to." Her brother shrugged, and Iriata Sensei's perfect face set into hard, angry lines. "You forced me to it, raising the price like you did."

"Don't blame me," he said, his mock affability vanishing instantly. "I didn't force you to start usin' the stuff. Now if you can find some way to bring in some money so you can pay me for it, great, I'll give you all ya want. But till then, you better make sure that jar lasts awhile, 'cause there's no more." He pushed her out the door. "Go on, I got business."

She tried to battle back her rising sense of panic as she stumbled down the long curving driveway to the battered gunmetal-gray sedan that waited for her. "Good," said the driver as soon as she slid inside. "Good goin', Iriata, y'got a nice little supply there."

"We need to come up with the money," she said insistently, staring at him in the hope that he'd have the solutions she needed. "Hotaia won't give us any more till we get the money to pay him. What'll we do?"

"There's always the arrangement we discussed last week," said the driver without inflection, sending the car down the quiet street.

"I won't do that. I _can't_ do it," Iriata protested.

"Then there's only one place to go. Where's your ex, in the same place?"

"No…he sold the house and the business. I don't know where he went. I haven't seen him since the divorce."

"Then you'll just have to start walkin' the streets." The driver spared her one quick glance, but it was that all-encompassing glance that Iriata had learned to loathe. " 'S all there is to it."

"Please, no," she protested. Imagine the horrible publicity that would ensue from it—a former Miss Samoa, selling her body for drugs? Sometimes she wished she'd never won that damned pageant.

"Listen, babe, you don't have much choice. If your brother isn't gonna give you the stuff out of the goodness of his heart anymore, then you need to get hold of some cash, quick-like. And unless you can tell me everything you know about your ex, then you know how we're gonna have to get that cash. Pure 'n' simple, babe, so what's it gonna be?"

Iriata stared at the Mason jar and its precious contents, knowing in her heart of hearts that she was squandering her life for this substance, but lacking the strength to resist its allure. Deep inside she was afraid to reveal anything about Taro—not so much for him, not after the way he'd cut off her access to money that belonged to both of them and not just him, but because she wanted to protect her children. That heart of hearts knew they were better off in Taro's care. But if she revealed too much information, what would happen to Stephanie, Noah and Tia?

"C'mon, babe," the driver said, in that weirdly expressionless way he had that gave her the creeps. It was as if he were a robot, without the capacity to feel anything. "What's it gonna be? You want the stuff, you gimme the info."

A lightheaded, faint feeling began to assault her, only teasing at first, and Iriata shook her head abruptly, trying to dispel it. But as though defying her, it merely grew stronger, and she realized she'd gone too long without a dose. The car jolted across a pothole and the black liquid inside the Mason jar sloshed noisily, singing a siren song.

"Taro grew up on Fantasy Island," she muttered, unable to take her eyes off the jar. "If he's not here in Samoa, then that's where he is."


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- May 20, 2005

When Christian was involved in any kind of computer work, he could still shut out the world around him to the point where he heard nothing; but when the muttered curse carried across the quiet office that Friday morning, it managed to penetrate his concentration, to his own surprise. He looked up and blinked; he'd been building a computer almost from scratch for a customer, and was amazed to find that he and Taro were the only ones in the office at the moment. Anton, Beth and Julianne had gone out on calls, and it was one of Jonathan's "weekend" days.

Taro noticed and smiled weakly, slowly hanging up the receiver of his desk phone. "Sorry, Your Highness," he said.

"I hope it's not Noah again," Christian said humorously.

"No, I think we're starting to get past that," Taro said with a deep sigh. "After that tantrum that got him suspended from school last week, I forbade any more hot dogs in the house. He went for three straight days without eating a single bite, and my mother was about to give me what-for when he got up on Thursday morning and asked for a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Now he's eating a slightly larger diet…cold cereal, pizza, burgers and fries, mac and cheese, and Hershey bars—only the ones with almonds in them. Not exactly health food, but at least he's broadened his menu."

Christian laughed. "I think you should count yourself lucky he didn't latch onto another food to the exclusion of all else, as with hot dogs. Well, if it's not Noah, I hope nothing else is wrong."

"I don't know for sure," said Taro slowly. "I mean…that's the third no-answer phone call I've had today." He eyed the phone as if the receiver were floating in the air under the influence of a snake charmer. "I've tried asking who's there, but nobody says anything."

"It's probably only prank calls," Christian said, already turning his attention back to his construction project. "Most likely someone else will get the next one."

"I don't think so, Your Highness," Taro said, and Christian looked up again at the odd, nervous tone in his voice. "The other two…well, Julianne picked up the first one and Beth got the other, and both times, they said the caller asked for me."

Christian frowned a little. "Are they calling you here only, or what?"

"So far, just here." Taro frowned at a half-completed repair on the work arm of his desk and drummed his fingers for a moment. "I could take a wild guess and say it's my ex-wife, but she's been so ticked at me since I cut off her money supply that she refuses to speak to me at all if she can help it. Which means she doesn't even talk to the kids."

The phone rang again and Christian met Taro's startled look. "Let me get that," the prince said, stricken with a sudden idea, and picked up the phone. "Enstad Computer Services. This is Christian, how can I help you?"

"Is Taro Sensei in?" a male voice asked and coughed a hacking, mucus-filled cough.

Deliberately Christian replied, "No, he had to step out for a while. Any message?"

The voice, a gravelly one that made Christian want to clear his own throat, cursed with what sounded like ritualistic annoyance. "Naw." With that there was a click, and Christian pulled the receiver away, stared at it, shook his head and replaced it.

"Do you know anyone who has a nasty cough—perhaps as with emphysema or something similar—and a raspy voice? A man?" he asked Taro.

Taro stared blankly into space, then shook his head. "No, nobody. Did he leave me any message, Your Highness?"

"No, he simply refused and hung up on me." Christian shrugged. "I don't know that there's anything else we can do, but I can give you a suggestion. If you need help of any kind, you can always speak with Mr. Roarke."

Taro nodded just to appease him; Christian could see it in his expression. But he let the subject drop and went back to work. A few prank calls from a mysterious stranger were nothing, in and of themselves; he had more pressing things to occupy his mind.

‡ ‡ ‡

Roarke thought Christian was in another world when the prince joined him, Leslie and the triplets for lunch. He murmured a hello, kissed Leslie almost without registering her presence, and sank into his chair with his expression far away and his eyes out of focus. "Is he all right, Leslie?" Roarke asked his daughter.

Leslie peered at Christian for a moment, then grinned with resignation. "It's what I call his 'computer fugue'," she said. "I haven't seen it for a while, but it looks like he's deep into it today. He'll find his way out eventually. What's for lunch?"

Roarke chuckled. "I will assume by that question that you mean this is nothing to be concerned over," he said, and she nodded, still grinning. Mariki came out then, setting domed plates on the table and giving out greetings. When she received only two replies, she squinted at Christian and then gave Leslie a quizzical look.

"Computer fugue," she said again.

"Oh," said Mariki, her tone suggesting she didn't quite get it, and shrugged. Leslie laughed softly to herself while the cook extracted a rolled-up newspaper from between a couple of items on her cart and presented Roarke with it. "Well, as long as Prince Christian's gone fishing mentally, you might appreciate something to look at, sir. I know you didn't get a chance to read it this morning."

"Thank you, Mariki," said Roarke, while Leslie began parceling out small portions of food to the triplets. The philosophy she and Christian had developed was to give them a little at a time, and more if they wanted it, to minimize waste. The girls' great passion at the moment was fruit of the moderately firm variety, such as bananas, mango, apple chunks, cantaloupe, strawberries, pears and papaya. Tobias still ate almost anything, but he vastly preferred to feed himself, whether the food was finger food or mushy. Leslie had learned to keep a spoon nearby to scrape the overflow off his chin and cheeks. She barely noticed Christian's lack of assistance, busy as she was apportioning fruit chunks, grilled-cheese-sandwich squares, and steamed, cooled carrot slices, along with small cups of water. The triplets were still in the learning stage with these, but seemed to be making progress.

Then Roarke said something ominous-sounding in a language Leslie was sure she'd never heard before. She blinked and stared at her father, but before she could ask questions or start trying to figure out the origin of what she'd heard, he shook his head and announced, "Black lightning."

"Is that stuff back in the news?" she asked, startled. "After Paola LiSciola died, I thought that was the end of it."

"It's not a large news item," Roarke said, "but it does note that after a near disappearance, there seems to be a small upsurge in consumption. Of course, there is only one source to which it can be traced back, but I seem to remember that the count showed little interest in trafficking in it. Apparently he has changed his mind."

"Oh, just what we need," Leslie muttered ironically, shaking her head. Having finally doled out her children's lunches, she began to dig into her own. "Does it say where the stuff was spotted?"

Roarke shook his head. "It seems to have appeared in random places. The concern here is that there is a general uptick in the apparent usage of the drug. I will have to release an informational packet to the island police and the ferry company, as well as those who work at the plane dock. The article mentions several known past dealers in the drug who undoubtedly won't hesitate to resume their business."

"Are you going to contact Count LiSciola?" Leslie asked, glancing at Christian and finding herself surprised that even mention of the name he hated so much didn't rouse him from his private netherworld. He must have some major project on his mind.

Roarke shook his head, folding the paper and laying it aside. "No, I have little legal reason to do so. The Italian authorities have jurisdiction over him. The best I can do is take all possible steps to keep it off Fantasy Island." He glanced at the triplets and smiled, his dark eyes suddenly sparkling with amusement. "You and Christian should consider yourselves quite fortunate. The children certainly do enjoy eating, don't they?"

Leslie grinned and nodded. "They sure do. They may exhibit weird preferences now and then, but they seem to like almost everything we let them try. The funny thing is how independent-minded they are—Tobias more than the girls, but they all like to grab chunks of food and feed themselves. They probably get that attitude from their father." She smiled at the still-oblivious Christian. "Even Karina's starting to reach for her own food, and she was the one who most wanted to just be fed…spoiled little princess that she is." This came out with affection, and Leslie reached over and smoothed Karina's hair.

Roarke laughed. "Have you two been making plans for their birthday celebration?"

"We're hoping to keep it small, because we don't want it overwhelming them," Leslie said, "but you know Mariki. I'm sure she'll want an excuse to have a big bash. We're not going for too many gifts. They got a slew of miniature T-shirts at my baby shower last year and for Christmas, and they've outgrown every single one of them, including the 'Fantasy Island Native' ones Camille got them before they were born. So Christian and I found someone who's making them little quilts using the pictures and logos on the outgrown shirts. She's even going to cut the letters of their names out of cute fabric and add them to a block on each quilt, so we know whose is whose."

"An excellent idea, and a perfect keepsake," said Roarke. "You're aware, of course, that those who are truly determined to get them gifts will do so, despite anything you and Christian say."

"Mostly we can blame Christian's family for that," said Leslie humorously. "I think Carl Johan and Amalia are the worst in that regard. Their descendants are mostly male, with two sons, a grandson and just the one granddaughter, and Amalia admitted she spoils Toria because she says it's so much fun getting to finally buy things for a girl. She and Carl Johan were responsible for quite a bit of stuff at Christmas."

As she said this, Susanna had been occupied with a piece of banana that was mushier than its counterparts, and had been smearing bits of it all over her hands. Small chunks still clung to her fingers, and Leslie caught sight of the mess and reached for a napkin to wipe her daughter's hands. But before she could get to them, the little girl made a sudden random flinging motion, and a chunk of fruit flew off her hand and hit Christian smack in the nose. The prince blinked and focused, at last snapping into the here-and-now, and literally crossed his eyes to see what had hit him before reaching up and swiping a finger down his nose. Leslie sat staring huge-eyed at him, a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to prevent her mirth from breaking loose.

Dryly Roarke said, "Welcome to the real world, Christian. Would you care for some lunch while you're here?"

That was more than Leslie could stand and she exploded with laughter. The triplets followed suit, delighted because their mother was laughing. Christian slowly wiped his hands with his napkin, then looked at Leslie and inquired, "So did you do that?"

"If Susanna hadn't, I just might have," Leslie chortled, finally snagging Susanna's hands and wiping them off. "Where've you been all this time, anyway?"

Christian grinned good-naturedly, running the napkin down his nose once before resettling himself in his chair. "In the ether, of course. All morning I've been building a custom computer for a bigwig who's been vacationing here this month, and there's a whole list of specialized odds and ends he wants for it that I expect to have to special-order. I have to tell you, though, as much of a nuisance as it's becoming, it's fascinating as well. I can hardly wait to see how it all comes together."

"And you'll have to test it, naturally, since after all you want to be sure the customer gets his money's worth," Leslie said with amused irony.

"Of course," Christian replied with a raised eyebrow and another grin. "You know full well I never release anything without being sure it works perfectly. The bonus is that I get to play with it myself." He chuckled at Leslie's playful eye-roll. "So then, how are these imps doing, other than trying to start a food fight with me? I see my son is as hungry as ever."

Their conversation moved elsewhere, and neither Roarke nor Leslie mentioned the newspaper item about black lightning; but it appeared that something had slipped through into Christian's subconscious after all. About to run some errands, Leslie paused on the porch steps when she heard his hail and waited. "What's up?"

"Come with me—I have to go to Coral Island anyway, so I'll drop you off at the plantation." She nodded agreement and they fell into step beside each other; once they were on their way down the northern branch of the Ring Road, he went on: "Did Mr. Roarke say something about black lightning at lunch?"

Leslie stared at him in surprise. "You actually heard it? We thought you were totally oblivious to anything we were talking about. Yes, he did, why?"

Christian grunted and drummed three fingers on the wheel for a moment. "That must mean that damned count's up to his old tricks. Anything to make a few _lire_, I suppose."

"Father said the last he recalled, the count had no particular interest in producing black lightning. That was his late daughter Paola's thing. But Father thinks maybe he changed his mind."

"That wouldn't surprise me. Anyone who would willingly marry off his daughter solely to gain social status certainly wouldn't be above manufacturing and selling illegal and harmful drugs." He growled low in his throat and glared through the windshield. "Why can't that old man just leave well enough alone?"

Leslie reached over and ran a hand along his thigh. "Christian, my love, don't get all worked up over something you can't control. Even Father said there's nothing he can do beyond taking whatever steps possible to try to keep it off the island. The count's under the jurisdiction of the Italian authorities, and if this made the news like that, there's no way they wouldn't be aware of it."

"They might be aware, but who's to say they wouldn't deliberately overlook it? The world is full of greedy, corrupt governments, my Rose, on every level from small towns to nations. If the manufacture and sale of black lightning increases the count's income and throws him into the next tax bracket, that may well be just fine with certain government officials. Too many politicians can be bought."

She smiled wryly. "Believe me, my love, I'm all too well aware of that. But Italy's one of the several dozen countries that have heavily regulated amakarna, isn't it? Enough exposure, enough publicity, and sooner or later someone with power's gonna put a stop to it. It may not be us, my love, but we aren't in a position to do anything. Hate what the count's doing all you like, but don't break your back raging over it when you personally can't stop it. Anyway, you have that fancy computer you're building to think about."

Christian chuckled, a little reluctantly. "That's true. I just wish I could erase the horrible creeping feeling that I'm being dragged back into the LiSciola family's orbit no matter how hard I resist."

"Don't worry about that, we settled all that a few years ago, if you'll recall. Father always insists on no reprisals when he deals with Mephistopheles, and it was conclusively proven that the contract was void from the start, so there's no way he can get his mitts on you now." She aimed a silly grin at him and suggested, "So smile!"

Christian broke into laughter at last and wrapped his hand around hers, which still rested on his leg. "All right, I'll stop moping. Since I was on another planet for a good half of our lunch, maybe you'd be willing to tell me how your day's been so far."

§ § § -- May 21, 2005

"Okay, Gianni, okay, I promise, I'll get you the money," Hotaia Sese said soothingly, hoping to placate his supplier. He was getting his product right from the source, because it was the purest stuff and thus brought the best price; but Gianni was notoriously touchy and had just about the most sensitive hair-trigger temper Hotaia had ever encountered. "I know my customers have it squirreled away, and if I gotta, I'll use force to make sure they pay me so I can get you your cash. Yeah, on my life, I swear it. Yours is the best stuff out there, and I ain't gonna switch now. Right, talk to ya later." He punched the disconnect button on his cell phone and fell back in his recliner, blowing out a breath. He hated to admit it, but Gianni scared him—and that was saying something, for he himself was used to dominating people and had done it pretty much all his life.

Just to get his equilibrium back, he picked up the cell again and dialed the number his sister had given him a few months before. Something in him squirmed at the thought of that sleazebag she was living with. Elmer had been one of his own most trusted cronies before Hotaia had caught him stealing cash from his safe; he'd had to have the guy beaten and thrown out of his compound, and then had to go out and get a new safe, since Elmer had the combination to the old one. Hotaia had secretly hoped Elmer had been beaten badly enough to die, but clearly he hadn't, and in the aftermath of the betrayal Elmer had taken up with the newly divorced Iriata. Though he didn't much care about the welfare of others, Iriata was his sister, and it was doubly galling to know that that traitor had her so securely under his thumb.

"Hello?" asked a tremulous female voice.

"Hi there, kiddo," Hotaia said jovially. "How's tricks?"

For a moment there was no response, then he thought he heard a sob. "Hotaia," Iriata moaned pleadingly and then began to cry.

"What'samatter, kiddo, is that scum doin' something to you?" he demanded. He wasn't above squeezing his sister for money, and he might not have gotten so up in arms if she were with anyone but Elmer, but this didn't occur to him. He just wanted some means of revenge on Elmer if he could get it.

"He wants me…to t-turn tricks on the st-streets to get the money," Iriata wailed.

"The pimp," Hotaia exploded, incensed. "Nobody does that to my little sister and gets away with it. You get away from him right now, kiddo, and get your little bum over here to my place. Tell 'im it's on my order, or else there ain't no more stuff for him, y'got it?"

"He…he's out right now," Iriata sniffled. "I can leave without a problem."

"Then hurry up," Hotaia said. "I want you over here anyway, and you're better off without that scum around. He ain't doin' nothing for ya. If ya gotta steal cash from him to get the bus fare, go ahead, okay? But get over here. I'll be waitin." He cut the connection before she could respond, and then began to pace the soft, thick shag carpet, trying to think of some way he could bring Elmer down. It was one thing if Iriata had come up with this on her own, he thought, but it was Elmer's idea; and he was sure that any money Iriata might have made would go directly into Elmer's pockets—and Elmer wouldn't pay him, that much he knew. No, it was better to have Iriata here where she was away from Elmer. Besides, he had a special question for her.

It was almost an hour before Iriata's presence was announced at the gates to his palatial home, and when she at last appeared in the doorway to his spacious den, he was a little surprised by how beaten and bedraggled she looked. Her jeans were mostly holes held together by thick white thread, and her T-shirt was dirty and stained and appeared to be too small for her. Her hair was a tangled mess and her sneakers looked as though she'd bought them just before she'd been crowned Miss Samoa seventeen years ago. She carried a frayed backpack that must have belonged to her daughter Stephanie in elementary school. "You gotta be kiddin' me. How you can let that scumball treat you like the dirt he lives in is beyond me. You in love with him or what?"

"He took care of me after the divorce," Iriata said feebly, hanging her head, apparently unable to meet her brother's gaze. "Taro cut me off."

"You keep sayin' that," Hotaia observed, slowly approaching her and taking in each aspect of her dishevelment. "You tryin' to tell me he wouldn't even let you take your own possessions with you when you walked out on him and your kids?"

"No," mumbled Iriata, her head drooping farther. "I packed my bags before I left."

"So where is everything?" Hotaia pressed, pausing within a few inches of her and then backing off a couple of steps, as if offended by some stench she gave off. "What's in that bag you scavenged from Stephy, huh, kiddo?"

When Iriata finally looked up at him, her eyes were full of tears. "I told you, you kept raising the price of black lightning on me. I had to sell my clothes and my jewelry and just about everything else. You're my brother, Hotaia, why couldn't you have at least given me a discount, if not freebies?"

"I did give you freebies, remember? Where's that jar I gave you not a week ago? Don't tell me you and precious Elmer already emptied it out."

Iriata rummaged listlessly within the bag and withdrew the Mason jar, now a little more than half full. "I'm up to three doses a day, Hotaia, and I never let Elmer have any of my stash. I don't know where he's getting his."

"Even three doses a day isn't gonna deplete that size jar that much in five days," her brother scoffed. "Say whatever you want, kiddo, that scum's been stealin' from your jar. Now you're here, it oughta last you longer—you might as well stay here, I ain't lettin' you fall back into _his_ clutches." He meandered toward his desk, hands clasped behind his back, big beefy body straining the stitches of his expensive dress shirt and slacks. "On the other hand, eventually that's gonna run out too, and I told ya before that I can't let you have any more freebies. My supplier's insisting on payment, and soon too, or he's gonna bring down consequences." He turned and pierced her with a look. "Now lemme tell ya, kiddo, I'm all the protection you got. Elmer's no good for ya, and your ex and your kids are someplace else. If my supplier gets his mitts on me, I'm toast, see? So the best thing to do is keep him happy, and he'll give us all the stuff we need and we'll live happily ever after."

"O…okay," Iriata said uncertainly.

Hotaia snorted and rolled his eyes. "Y'don't get it, do ya? What else you got in that bag? I wanna see everything in there." He waited while Iriata slowly extracted items from the backpack and placed them on a long, low, polished cedar table. There were a couple of extra outfits and a few underthings, all of which looked as if they'd come from questionable secondhand stores; the jar; a toothbrush with badly frayed bristles; a smattering of coins and some crumpled bills; and a small laminated portrait of her older two children, Stephanie and Noah. Hotaia stared at the pitiful collection in disbelief, then demanded, "Where the hell is the Blue Moon, Iriata?"

"What?" she said blankly.

"The Blue Moon," he repeated ominously, advancing on her again.

For the first time her face gained some animation. "Are you serious? Even I wouldn't carry something like that in a backpack. I know you think I'm incredibly stupid, but I'm not as dumb as that!"

"Fine, then, but where is it?" he persisted.

Iriata hesitated, as if thinking about it, then drew herself up to her full height and met his gaze with mutiny in her eyes. "I don't know."

Hotaia dismissed that with a very loud epithet that made her blink. "Don't give me that! You had that damn thing in the house when you and Taro were still married, and you never once agreed to put it away for safekeeping. There ain't no way you didn't take it with you when you left, so what the hell did you do with it?"

Iriata stood firm; in fact, a modicum of self-satisfaction joined the mutiny on her face. "It's in a safe place. I don't know its precise location right now, but I do know it's safe. It's my last resort. If I ever need anything badly enough, if something ever happens to you and I have no place else to go, then I'll have it in reserve so I can make a fresh start."

Hotaia snorted again. "You can't make any fresh starts by yourself, kiddo. You can't take care of yourself, and you're so hooked on black lightning you'll never get off it. You owe me money and I aim to get it. I got no problem with takin' care of you here, but you owe me. And since you obviously got no liquid assets other than the peanuts lyin' on the table there, then all that's left is the Blue Moon." As he spoke he marched up to her till his nose was a bare millimeter away from hers. "Now for the last time, _where is it?"_

"You don't get to take that away from me, Hotaia," Iriata announced, her bravado audibly shaky but determined nonetheless. "It's my last resort. If you want it that much, you're just gonna have to go find it yourself." She stepped aside and began replacing things in the backpack. "Now what room am I sleeping in?"

Hotaia stared at her, astonished. Never before had his malleable little sister stood up to him so adamantly. For a moment he stood there boiling, then cursed again and said, "No matter, kiddo. You won't tell me, I'll find out myself. Betcha ya told Elmer."

"All I said was that Taro probably moved back home," Iriata informed him primly, her nose in the air. "He wouldn't know where to go from there."

"Oh, I'll just bet," Hotaia sneered. "Get outta here—y'might as well take the room at the end of the hall here. But you wait, kiddo. I'm gettin' hold of the Blue Moon one way or another, no matter what you say, 'cause you owe me."

He waited till Iriata left the room, then smiled to himself, a slow nasty smile. He knew more about Iriata's former husband than she thought he did. It was time to pack for a little trip to Fantasy Island. The idea filled him with anticipation; it was high time he had a vacation, and where better to take it than on the most beautiful tropical island on earth?


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- May 23, 2005

"So it's my understanding that the family is well," Christian was saying, standing in the study with Leslie and the triplets just prior to their heading home that Monday morning. "Rudolf telephoned the house last evening and told me he very much appreciates that painting you helped us get for his birthday Friday. He went so far as to say he thinks Tattoo is a far better artist than most others whose work he's seen, and is considering trying to get at least one more of his paintings for his suite."

"That's excellent to hear," Roarke said warmly, "and I'm certain Solange and the children will be happy to know that as well. I'll pass the word to them. How has your nephew's new marriage been working out, have you heard?"

"They seem to be doing well enough," said Christian, amused. "We had an e-mailed invitation to the wedding back around the first week of April, but when Roald told us he and Adriana were getting married on the twenty-fourth, we knew that was just too little advance notice and had to turn him down. To tell the truth, I was skeptical that he'd go through with it, so I'm sure you can imagine our shock when Anna-Laura called and said the wedding had proceeded as planned. They had one serious disagreement on when to start a family, but apparently they're getting along fine otherwise."

"Not just that, but it looks like we're spending our respective vacations in Lilla Jordsö again," Leslie said humorously. "Seems Gabriella met someone at the same spring ball where Roald and Adriana met, some Swedish earl whose name I keep forgetting, and on Friday night she sent us an e-mailed plea to be there for their wedding at the end of August. She asked Christian to give her away, and it was hard for him to refuse."

Christian said dryly, "At least she had the sense to give us more than three weeks' notice." They all laughed, making the triplets chortle too.

"Pass along my congratulations," Roarke said with a smile, "and in the meantime, you two enjoy your weekend. Have you any plans for it?"

"Nothing special," Leslie said. "Grady and Maureen might bring their girls over this evening just to visit, and we can all sit in the living room and watch April and the triplets throw toys at each other." They laughed again, and Roarke wished them an enjoyable weekend and watched their car retreat down the lane before going back inside and tackling the normal round of post-weekend cleanup and restock that Monday always brought.

It was approaching mid-afternoon and he was preparing to make a run to the fishing village to check on conditions there, when movement and sound simultaneously caught his attention and he looked onto the terrace, just in time to see Taro Sensei stagger across the flagstones. Even from here he could see a huge, swelling bruise on Taro's right cheekbone. "Taro, what happened?" he exclaimed, hurrying across the room and assisting the young man into the house.

"Somebody…caught me on the path," Taro mumbled, breathing heavily and stumbling even with Roarke's assistance. "Kept…kept asking me 'where is it, where is it?' When I…I couldn't tell him, he…he started hitting me."

"Where exactly were you when this happened?" Roarke asked urgently.

"On the…path, going home. Was…was quiet at work, so Anton…let me out early. Was going to head…home and meet my…my kids when they got back from sch…school. Just…just showed up outta nowhere and started…doing me in." Taro fell heavily into one of the leather chairs in front of the desk and gingerly cradled his right cheek with a cupped hand.

Roarke, mind flying in several directions at once, called Fernando Ordoñez and asked that he come to the main house as quickly as he possibly could; then he called for Mariki, who presently brought in a bag of ice for Taro to hold against his cheek. He then called Junko Sensei, who arrived before Dr. Ordoñez did, her face a mask of worry. She had baby Tia with her; the child's big dark eyes took in everything around her, but she made not a sound, which Roarke wondered briefly at and then set aside for the moment.

When Fernando got there and had examined Taro, confirming that nothing had been broken, Junko finally let herself collapse into the other chair. Tia blinked at the jarring this gave her, but she still made no noise at all. "Who on earth would do this, and why?" she asked, staring plaintively at Roarke.

Roarke focused on Taro. "Do you think you would recognize the voice of the person who attacked you?" he asked. "You said he constantly asked you 'where is it'."

Taro went still, thinking back, then murmured slowly, "I don't know who he was, but it was a pretty distinctive voice. Sounded kinda…I don't know, croupy, I guess. Like he really needed to clear his throat but wouldn't do it. He coughed a couple times, like he had lung disease or something…" His voice trailed off and a deep frown creased his forehead. Junko started to speak, but Roarke raised a hand at her, and she subsided, watching her son anxiously.

Fernando caught Roarke's eye. "Is there anything else you need, Mr. Roarke?"

"I don't believe so," Roarke replied. "Thank you, Dr. Ordoñez." Fernando smiled and departed, and silence fell after he'd closed the door, evidently striking Junko as oppressive. She began to shift in her chair and Tia looked down into her grandmother's lap, watching the movements of her legs, still quiet.

Suddenly Taro's features cleared. "Now I know," he said, staring up at Roarke. "This guy's been looking for me, for some reason. He's been calling at work—whoever picks up the phone says he asks for me, but when I answer, nobody says anything. The last time it happened, Prince Christian picked it up, pretended I'd gone out and asked for a message, and the guy hung up on him. He asked then if I knew anybody with a bad cough and a raspy voice. Ten to one that's the guy who assaulted me."

"Do you know anyone like that, son?" Junko asked.

"No, Mom, really, I don't. I told Prince Christian the same thing. That was just last Friday. I've been thinking about it ever since then…" He focused on Roarke again and spoke earnestly, despite the strain that tinged his voice from the pain caused by the beating he'd taken. "I've ruled out everything else, so I'm pretty sure it must tie in with Iriata in some way. That's my ex-wife, Mr. Roarke. We haven't seen hide or hair of her since she walked out on us, except for me, when we were in court for the divorce proceedings. She never contacts the kids. Sometimes I'm not sure she even realizes Tia's alive."

"Indeed?" said Roarke, slowly sitting down. "Why would you say that?"

Taro shifted in his chair, his gaze faltering. "She started acting kinda weird, even before we knew she was pregnant with Tia. Out of nowhere one day she started being a lot more active. She seemed to have this endless supply of energy, you know? And you should have seen the birthday parties she gave Noah and Stephanie that year. I think Noah was overwhelmed, and Stephanie just seemed confused—they'd probably have been happy enough for a little party with some friends and cake and ice cream and so on. But Iriata brought in a little traveling circus for Noah's birthday, and for Stephanie's she hired a locally popular rock band and had them perform at her party.

"And it seemed like she needed a lot less sleep than usual, but when she did sleep it was like she was in a coma. You could've bombed the house and it wouldn't wake her up. She slept through thunderstorms that even scared Stephanie." He shook his head. "And all the way through her pregnancy with Tia, she gained practically no weight at all. Thrilled her to death, but drove her doctor crazy. It was a wonder Tia was born at term and had normal measurements. But she almost never cries, unless she's so hungry or so wet that it makes her impatient. I know her hearing and eyesight are fine. She turns her head when we call her name, and she watches us when we move around."

Roarke was the one with the heavy frown now. "Is this why you were divorced?"

Taro shrugged. "Maybe indirectly, 'cause I have a funny feeling she must've been on something, though heck knows what. It was early in her pregnancy that I started noticing the steady drain on our savings account. I didn't want to believe anything was wrong, so I waited almost too long. I took what money was left and closed out that account, then put it in a new one under my name only. After that she went in and took out a loan against my business without my knowing about it. It was six months before I got a notice from the bank demanding payments. She wouldn't tell me what was going on and refused to be of any help at all, and then she left the next day. I had to sell my house and my business, so I could come back here and start over again."

Roarke nodded slowly, absorbing this information. After a moment he said, "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Just that…she had all that extra energy, like it never quit. Practically no appetite, so she was a stick when she walked out on us. Slept like the dead, but she went to bed after all the rest of us and was the first one up in the morning. She was always running off doing this or that or the other, so usually Stephanie and I wound up caring for Tia." He cast the baby a worried glance. "Can you recommend a good doctor to take her to? She's a wonderful kid—maybe too good to be true. She's so quiet and pliant. But she hasn't even started making talking noises, like kids do at this age."

Roarke nodded understanding. "How old is she?"

"Ten and a half months. I don't expect her to be a chatterbox, but she should be making sounds at least, and she doesn't. And I can't remember ever seeing her smile."

"I haven't seen it either," Junko admitted sadly, examining Tia's chubby little face. "She's such a beautiful baby and the least troublesome child I've ever encountered, but she worries me. Taro's right, I think a doctor should look at her."

Roarke nodded again. "If she hasn't had a checkup in some time, you should certainly take her anyhow. Dr. Gwen Corbett is Christian and Leslie's pediatrician; she has many years of experience with children and is highly recommended. She has her offices in the hospital." He cleared his throat when Junko and Taro both nodded. "However, she may not be able to answer your questions about Tia's behavior and apparent developmental difficulties. You see…it's my suspicion that her mother is addicted to a drug called black lightning."

Junko stared blankly at him; Taro looked confused. "What's black lightning?"

"It's a rare drug—fortunately for us," Roarke said heavily, settling slowly back in his chair and gazing into space. "It is made from an equally rare spice known as amakarna, and to the best of my knowledge there are but two sources of this spice on the entire planet. One of them is my cousin's son, Rogan Callaghan, who supplies the spice to Christian's nieces and grows it for that purpose only. The other is a certain Count LiSciola, who lives in Italy, and previously was the sole supplier on earth."

Junko's face cleared suddenly. "That's right, now I remember—the story behind Prince Christian's arranged marriage. But when that came out, it talked only about amakarna—none of the articles ever mentioned this black lightning."

"At the time, supplies of the drug had all but disappeared," Roarke said. "Its manufacturer was one of the count's daughters, the older sister of the young lady who was married to Christian. She had been dead for about two years by then. Lately, however, I've noted that the drug has been appearing here and there, and from the symptoms Taro described to me, I believe that's the answer." He looked sharply at Taro. "You say that Iriata had been using the drug during her pregnancy with Tia?"

Taro nodded, his face alive with alarm. "What kind of effects would this stuff have on an unborn baby, Mr. Roarke?"

Shaking his head slightly, Roarke said, "There are not many cases of prenatal addiction on record. I'll have to look into it and let you know what I find." He glanced back and forth between Tia's father and grandmother, then added, "I do have reference materials that can refresh my memory, so I believe something will turn up. For now, by all means, take Tia to see Dr. Corbett. She appears to me to be in fine health, but the doctor can determine that for you officially, so that you can rest easy on at least one count."

"We'll do that, then," Junko agreed. "But what about my son's attacker?"

"You've provided some excellent clues, Taro," Roarke said. "I'll see to it that word is spread, and if anyone encounters him, it will be reported and the man can be taken into custody." He cast a quick glance at the grandfather clock. "For the moment, you might want to hurry home, so that your other children don't worry when they find no one there."

"Oh dear, it really is that late," Junko murmured. "Can you make it, Taro?"

"Yeah, I can walk, as long as we take it slow," Taro assured her, pushing himself to his feet. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Roarke." Roarke nodded, then made eye contact with Tia and smiled at the baby. As much to his surprise as to Taro's and Junko's, Tia smiled back, right out of the blue, displaying a few teeth.

"I don't believe it," Junko exclaimed. "Hi, Tia sweetie, smile for Grammy?" Tia turned her head to gaze at Junko, her smile still huge.

"How'd you do that, Mr. Roarke?" Taro asked.

Roarke grinned. "Ah, if I knew, perhaps I could launch a sideline business." They all laughed, and Junko and Taro thanked him again and departed with Tia. As soon as they were gone, Roarke went directly to the stairs that led to the cellar where he kept potions and at the bottom of the staircase, instead of turning left, he turned right and entered another room outfitted as a library. It wasn't a large room, but all four walls were outfitted floor to ceiling with bookcases loaded with books—all of them in a language only two people on the entire island could read: Roarke and Rogan Callaghan. To one side of the room was a comfortable chair and a floor lamp placed next to it, with a small but sturdy wooden table on the other side; here Roarke placed four or five fairly large books, then settled into the chair and began to page through a sixth. Seeing little Tia Sensei had teased his memory about cases like hers, and he had hopes for an optimistic outlook. Once he had some kind of answer there, he planned to check the Internet for mention of recent arrests or drug-dealing activity in Samoa.

§ § § -- May 25, 2005

Taro had just returned to his desk from having lunch when a police jeep came to life, roaring across the town square with lights flashing and sirens wailing. Both he and Jonathan paused briefly, and Beth, Julianne, and Christian all looked up, in order to watch. This wasn't a common sight on Fantasy Island, so it was little wonder that not just they but everyone in and around the square stared after the disappearing vehicle.

"Wonder what's up?" Jonathan mused, just as the phone rang.

Beth reached hers first and then turned to Taro. "It's for you—your mother."

"Oh boy," Taro mumbled and grabbed his extension. "Yeah, Mom, what's up?"

"Taro, do you think Prince Christian will let you off for an hour or so? I just got back home from shopping with Tia, and the house has been broken into. The mess is incredible. All I've done so far is call the police and Mr. Roarke—I'm going to call your father next."

"Is every room like that?" Taro asked, hand over his stomach as though to prevent his lunch from coming back up. "Can you tell if anything's missing?"

"I don't know," Junko said helplessly. "Just do me a favor—put me on hold a few seconds and check with Prince Christian, then tell me if you can come home or not."

"Okay, Mom, calm down," Taro said and pressed the hold button on his phone. "Uh, Your Highness…excuse me, but is it all right if I go back home for an hour or so? My mother says someone broke into the house while she was out shopping with Tia."

"_Herregud,"_ said Christian, astonished. "By all means, go, then. Take as much time as you need, all right? I'm very sorry to hear that."

"I hope nothing valuable was taken," offered Beth.

"We don't know yet," Taro said. "Thanks, Your Highness." He got back on the line long enough to relay to his mother that he was on his way home, then headed for the door, saying as he went, "I guess that explains the police jeep."

"Good luck," his co-workers chorused, and he managed a smile before leaving and taking the usual trail home at a dead run. Since returning to Fantasy Island, he'd noticed he had lost a lot of sleep and about ten pounds, between the problems he'd been having with Noah, his constant low-grade worry over Tia, and then his roughing up and this break-in. The only one who seemed to have come out of this whole thing unscathed was Stephanie, and he hoped it continued so. She had friends in school and seemed to spend a lot of time with them, which he was glad for.

He slowed to a walk at the entrance to the small neighborhood where his parents lived and gave himself a chance to catch his breath before venturing into the house. His thought had been right: the police jeep they'd seen earlier sat in the Senseis' driveway, the sirens quiet now but the lights still rotating. The front door was open, and he stuck his head in. "Mom? I'm home."

Junko and two policemen emerged from the kitchen; Junko still had Tia in her arms. "Oh, good, there you are. We've been going through the house, and so far we haven't noticed that anything's missing. Mr. Roarke and your father should be here shortly."

As she spoke, Roarke stepped onto the front porch behind Taro. "Was anyone hurt?" was his first question.

"No, we were all out," Junko said. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Roarke."

Taro turned and regarded the enigmatic owner of the island. "Did Mom say why she called you?" he asked curiously.

Roarke smiled a little. "It's her belief that this break-in and the attack on you are connected, and I am afraid I must agree with her. Why don't you come inside, and the officers can take any notes while we talk it over."

When the policemen heard this, they looked at each other; then one asked, "Do you think someone may be targeting you, Mr. Sensei?"

Taro sighed and said, "I'm starting to think so. Nothing's been taken in spite of all the stuff lying around, and I've been knocked around, but the guy didn't even lift my wallet." He hesitated just then when something occurred to him, and he felt his insides shrivel with dread. "But maybe I know what they're after."

"That sounds like a quantum leap of logic to me," Junko said a little suspiciously. "How do you figure that?"

"Bear with me, Mom," Taro said and explained to the policemen about his divorce, his return to Fantasy Island, and the reasons for these events. "I talked to Mr. Roarke after that guy roughed me up, and he recognized my ex-wife's behavior as signs of addiction to some drug known as black lightning. If Iriata's hooked, then she has to get money to pay for the stuff she's using. Even if she isn't doing this directly, it has to tie into that."

"But that doesn't explain how you think you know what they want," said Junko.

Taro leaned heavily against a wall and jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. "I know this is pure conjecture, but it's the best I can come up with. I've met her brother a few times—guy named Hotaia Sese. He's a fairly powerful local crimelord, and his attitude suggested to me that he wasn't above using his own sister to further his, uh, career. She had a good million or more in prize money when she was crowned Miss Samoa in the late 80s. Obviously Hotaia saw her as a terrific source of income, but for a long time he confined himself just to asking for loans. But they were monster loans, and she never had any horse sense about money, so she just gave it to him and never bothered him about getting it back. Last I heard of him, he was living in a gated community in a near palace of a house—that was just around the time I noticed Iriata acting weird."

One of the policemen had been scribbling in shorthand as he talked; the other had stood up straight with recognition when he heard Iriata's brother's name. "Hotaia Sese is definitely a known commodity," he said. "Drugs aren't the only thing he dabbles in, but they do make up a pretty good part of what he calls his business. And lately he's been reported to Samoan authorities as possessing and selling black lightning." He looked at Roarke as he said this last, and Roarke nodded silently. "Mr. Sensei, you said your wife was draining your accounts and had taken a loan against your business."

Taro nodded. "By then Hotaia had taken just about all her money and she was down to using our joint funds, and then going into my assets when I cut her off. When the first demand for loan repayments came in, I had it out with her, and she left the next day. By that time she had nothing left, and I was almost in the same position myself. Well, actually, she did have one thing left to her name…"

"Please tell us, Taro," Roarke requested quietly when he paused.

Taro took a deep breath, released it and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Along with the prize money and a lot of other goodies, when Iriata was crowned Miss Samoa, she received a diamond called the Blue Moon. It was cut exclusively for her, to her specifications. She wanted a hole bored through it so she could thread it directly onto a chain, but she wore it that way for only a couple years or so. Then she put it away for safekeeping and didn't tell anyone where it was, including me. She said it would be safer if she was the only one who knew. She loved that thing—she didn't care about the money or the clothes or even the new car, that diamond was the best thing she got, as far as she was concerned. Sometimes I asked about it, especially after Hotaia had been around a few times looking for big money, and she said she was keeping it no matter what."

"Do you think she still has it?" the policeman asked.

Taro heard the skeptical note in his voice. "I know what you're thinking—drugs make people do things they swore on their lives they'd never do. But as far as I know, Iriata still has the thing—that is, she never gave it to Hotaia."

Roarke leaned forward, an intense look in his dark eyes. "Since Iriata was taking money that belonged to both of you, rather than her own, it's clear that her resources had run out. It seems to me that by this time she may be in dire financial straits, and perhaps having trouble finding money to buy supplies of the drug."

"That's what I was thinking too," said Taro. "And if she's in hock to her supplier, he'll want everything of value she has in payment. Like I said, Hotaia has practically no scruples. If he's her supplier and she's out of money, then he'll demand the Blue Moon. He knows perfectly well she has it."

"So you feel that Hotaia Sese, or someone in his employ, may have done this," Roarke said, indicating the rest of the house with a gesture.

"Right," Taro said. "Looking for the Blue Moon, I'm sure—that's why nothing's missing. For some reason they must think I have it."

"Do you?" his mother wanted to know.

"No, Mom," Taro said firmly, "I don't, and what's more, I have no clue where it is. You'd have to ask Iriata. There were some things that were obviously mine and some that were obviously hers—that was the way it was divided in the divorce. The Blue Moon fell into the category of her stuff, and anyway, what would I do with it?"

"Pay for the children's college education, for one thing," Junko said tartly. "Now that Iriata's cleaned you out, that's your last resource, unless you're lucky and Stephanie, Noah and Tia all win full scholarships. And Stephanie's not far away from college now, I hope you remember."

"Mom, I know," Taro said, slightly impatient. "That's great and fine and wonderful, but the fact is, I don't have the thing, and I don't know where to find it. Period."

"So you believe that Iriata's brother, or his toadies, are on the island," the policeman summed up, "and they think you have the Blue Moon diamond and are trying to find it. That's about the best theory we have right now. We know what Sese looks like, he has a rap sheet that'd stretch from here to Mars if you printed it out. And we have what information you could give us on the guy who attacked you…so I guess for now, that's it."

"Thanks for coming over," Taro said, and the policemen both nodded and made their way out. They brushed past Tadashi Sensei coming in; Taro's father looked quite tired, and when he saw the shambles of the house, he stood and slowly shook his head.

"Honey, they didn't take anything," Junko said quickly, going to meet him. "We just finished talking to the police, and Taro thinks people connected to his ex-wife's hoodlum of a brother are searching for something of hers that they think he has."

Tadashi gave a great, slightly shaky sigh and met her gaze; Taro winced, for even his eyes looked tired. "It's only that this seems like the last straw," Tadashi said quietly, in his faint Japanese accent. "The Enclave marina reported an unauthorized yacht moored to an empty slip." He looked up and noticed Roarke standing with Taro at the top of the stairs to the upper level of the house. "Mr. Roarke, you'll be aware, of course, that Gregory Nordeman recently sold his house and his boat here, and the slip the boat occupied has been empty since at least March. That's the one this yacht has taken."

To their surprise, Roarke said flatly, "The yacht is registered to a Hotaia Sese, and someone at the Enclave's marina allowed him onto the island without benefit of a pass."

"That's correct, Mr. Roarke," Tadashi confirmed. "We just learned of it today." The marina offices were part of the ferry company, in order to control access to the island; the employees were sharp, but occasionally there were mistakes.

"Why does it make you look like the world just ended, Dad?" Taro asked.

"This particular employee deliberately allowed Hotaia Sese onto the island. He's been fired, of course, but I feel personally responsible."

Roarke descended the stairs and rested a hand on Tadashi's shoulder for a moment. "Don't take it so hard, Mr. Sensei," he advised gently. "We have known for years that the marinas are the weakest security points on the island, and now that this incident has come to light, perhaps I'll finally be able to persuade the island council to rebuild the ticket office there so that it is necessary for everyone who arrives via that point to pass through it."

Tadashi managed a smile at that. "If some good can come of it somehow, Mr. Roarke, then I'll be much relieved," he said. "I appreciate your concern. You're a very good man."

"It's part of my job," said Roarke and smiled. "I'm glad to know that no one was injured and nothing was taken. If you'll all excuse me, I must get back to work."

"Thanks, Mr. Roarke," the Senseis chorused, and Tia even smiled at him before he left. Taro joined his parents and gathered the baby into his arms. "Tia, kiddo, seems to me you like Mr. Roarke better than anybody else on this whole island…even your poor old dad." His mother and father laughed, but Taro couldn't find much humor in the situation. What else had to happen before Hotaia and his henchmen realized he didn't have the Blue Moon?


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- May 30, 2005

"Finally," said Leslie with relief, toting a large, colorfully wrapped rectangular box into the study and depositing it onto the love seat beside the tea table. "I was afraid they wouldn't be ready in time."

"What would that be?" asked Roarke, looking up from his date book.

"The triplets' birthday quilts," Leslie said, grinning at him. "Three days to go and I was getting pretty antsy. Christian's been telling me so often to calm down that I think he'll be saying it in his sleep for a while. Now that we've got these, everything else is gravy."

Roarke chuckled. "Well then, since such a load has been taken off your mind, perhaps you'll be willing to make a check on the Williams fantasy for me." She laughed and agreed, leaving the box on the loveseat and departing the house.

The phone rang about fifteen minutes later, and he picked it up, pulling a letter from an envelope at the same time. "Yes?"

"Mr. Roarke, this is the police chief. We just got a call from Miss Leslie and a guest of yours, a Horatio Williams. They've discovered a body on one of the trails."

"I'll be right there," Roarke said and hung up, setting the letter aside. Within minutes he was at the station, where he found his daughter and their guest, both looking shaken. "Are you all right, Mr. Williams?" he asked.

"Yeah," Horatio Williams said and blew out his breath. "Sometimes I think I shoulda been more specific when I said my fantasy was to have some more excitement in my life."

Roarke chuckled. "Perhaps so. Where is the body now?"

"Still on the trail," the chief said. "Mr. Williams had a cell phone on him, and he put in the call to us. He and Miss Leslie waited till a couple of our men got there, and then they came back here so they could make a full report."

"Have you done that yet?" Roarke asked his daughter.

Leslie shook her head. "We were waiting for you, so you could hear the details. Under the circumstances, I figured you'd have a particular interest."

"Oh?" he prompted, waiting.

She nodded. "When Mr. Williams and I found the guy, he wasn't dead yet. He had both hands clamped over his chest, but there was blood spraying out from between his fingers." She squeezed her eyes closed and shuddered. "There was no way anyone could have saved him, not from that. There was blood just all over the place, on the ground, soaking the guy's clothes…you name it. Mr. Williams asked him who did that to him, and he hacked out this horrible-sounding cough and said something that sounded like 'say-say'. His voice sounded weird, like he needed to clear his throat or something."

Williams nodded and added, "I was gonna ask him to repeat it, but then he just went limp and died on us. And that's when I called the police."

Roarke slowly folded his arms over his chest, watching the police chief writing this down, considering Leslie's description of the victim and then frowning. "Leslie, tell me again what he sounded like, please."

"He had a hoarse voice," Leslie said. "Not exactly gravelly like Tattoo's was, but more like he had something in his throat, you know what I mean? And that cough was the worst I've ever heard. He must have either been a very heavy smoker or had some sort of cancer, or even emphysema."

Roarke stiffened and said urgently, "Leslie, go to Christian's office and bring back Taro Sensei, please." She flashed him one bewildered glance, but she'd worked for him too long to delay. She simply nodded and hurried out.

After a few minutes she returned, with not only Taro but also Christian in tow. Taro looked harried, the prince merely curious. "What's wrong now?" Taro asked.

Roarke sensed his mood. "We realize this has been a trial for you, Taro, but I have a suspicion which I need you to confirm for me. Leslie, please explain what happened." They stood and listened while Leslie repeated her story, with the same interjections from Horatio Williams. Taro folded his arms over his chest, waiting for them to get to the point, while Christian sidled in beside Leslie and slipped an arm around her.

Christian mumbled something in _jordiska_ when they finished, and drew Leslie into a hug. Taro cleared his throat nervously. "You said he had a…hoarse voice?" he asked.

Both Christian and Leslie looked around; Leslie nodded, and Taro met Christian's gaze. "The guy who attacked me had a voice like that," Taro said.

Christian nodded. "Perhaps this is the same person who wouldn't leave a message when he called and I pretended you had gone out," he offered.

"But who is he?" Leslie asked. "That's what I'd like to know. Who he is, and why he was so badly injured that it killed him."

"What'd you say he said right before he died?" the police chief asked her. "The phrase Mr. Williams said he was going to have the guy repeat?"

"Oh," said Leslie. "It sounded like 'say-say', if that means anything."

Roarke frowned. "As in Hotaia Sese, I presume."

"Who's Hotaia Sese?" Christian and Leslie asked in perfect chorus.

"My ex-wife's brother," Taro answered in a resigned-sounding voice. "I have a feeling Hotaia and this guy have something to do with each other—maybe this character was one of Hotaia's toadies. But if the guy said 'Sese' when your guest here asked who did it…that wouldn't make sense. I can't figure why Hotaia would do in one of his own men."

"Was he a very loyal sort?" Roarke asked.

"Well, no," Taro admitted. "It's like I said, he isn't above taking advantage of his own sister. Anyone like that, well, he could turn on you on a dime. But in the, uh, business he's in, I'd think he'd want to stay on the good side of as many people as he could."

The police chief shrugged. "Word's out that Sese's on the island now, since we understand his yacht's moored at the Enclave marina. But if he had any brains, he wouldn't use the boat as a base. All we'd have to do is move in on him and we'd have him."

"The vessel has already been impounded for illegal entry into sovereign territory," said Roarke, "so he couldn't return to it even if he so wished. He may or may not be working alone; either way, there is good reason to believe that he is here for that diamond he believes Taro possesses, and that he won't leave until he obtains it. And now that he has most likely ascertained that it's not in your current place of residence, he may begin to consider other possibilities, and thus put the rest of your family in danger."

"I'll give Myeko and Sayuri a heads-up when I can get to a phone," Taro said. "Myeko and Nick'll probably be a little less vulnerable—they have one of those home-alarm systems, and anybody trying to get into their place would set it off in a heartbeat. But Sayuri lives in an apartment."

"How well does he know your family?" Christian asked.

Taro shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. He knows I have a brother and two sisters, and I guess he knows their names, but I don't think he realizes Myeko's married. But since Sayuri isn't, he might unearth her address in the phone book and shoot for her place next."

"What about Stephanie and Noah?" Leslie put in.

Taro winced. "I didn't think of that. Well, they're still in school for another week at least, but after that, if Hotaia isn't caught, I don't know what I can do. Noah and Tia won't be a problem, but Stephanie's got friends on the island and she won't be too happy about not getting to see them if I have to keep her shut in the house for her own safety." The last day of school was June 4.

"They both ride the bus home from school, don't they?" Roarke said. "They should be reasonably safe for the final week of the school year. However, if I were you, I would advise both children to be careful of strangers. Have they ever met Hotaia Sese?"

"Not that I know of," Taro said. "I'll have to tell them what he looks like."

The police chief dug into a drawer and handed him a flyer with a photograph printed on it. "Just show them this," he said. "Sese's got Wanted posters up practically all over the South Pacific. And if they do see him, definitely get word to us pronto."

Taro agreed, and they all finally left the station. Christian held Leslie back as she was about to follow Roarke across the square along with Horatio Williams. "Are you sure you're all right, my Rose? From your description, that had to be one of the most gruesome things you've seen in many years."

"I think so," Leslie said with a deep sigh. She smiled gamely up at him. "At least I know I'm not the one who has to do the autopsy."

"Oh, for fate's sake," Christian groaned, and they both laughed softly. "Sometimes you really do have a macabre sense of humor, my darling. But as long as you're able to cope, then I won't worry." He checked his watch. "Taro and I had better get back to work, so I'll see you and the triplets at dinnertime."

"I'm glad you came, my love," Leslie said, and he smiled, dropped a kiss on her lips and squeezed her hand before heading back across the square with Taro.

§ § § -- June 2, 2005

They held the triplets' birthday party in the clearing beside the main house, so that it could be kept reasonably small but also allow for the Enstads' friends to participate. It also made it convenient for Mariki to keep the food and beverages coming. As she had promised, the cook came up with a banana cake, sans frosting, for the celebrants and the other children under five to partake of.

Pretty much everybody showed up—the Hardings, the Omamaras, the Okadas, the Knights, the Ordoñezes and the Miyamotos, all of them with their children. Those of school age readily let it be known to any and all who would listen that they could barely wait for the final two days of the school year to elapse; they were tired of being pent up in classrooms and wanted to get out and enjoy the summer. Haruko Miyamoto added cheerfully to Leslie and Christian that she would be available for a great deal more babysitting if they needed her, and they laughingly assured her they'd keep this in mind.

By the time most of the crowd was gone, leaving only Nick, Myeko and their children, Christian and Leslie were exhausted; the triplets had all fallen asleep; and even Roarke looked a little weary. "That's quite a haul you're gonna have to bring home with you, isn't it?" Nick observed humorously, referring to the piles of presents the triplets had received for the momentous achievement of turning one.

"Someone may have to remain behind to make room for all the gifts," Christian quipped, and the others laughed softly.

"If you want, we'll take on the overflow and help you bring it home," Myeko offered. "It's not all that late, and anyway, with it being the last week of the school year, there's probably not much going on tomorrow anyway. So Alexander and Noelle at least can lend a couple of hands too, and I'm sure even Dawn'll want to carry stuff."

"I take dat cake," Dawn said, pointing at the remains of the birthday cake, making them all burst into laughter. She was almost four and a chubby little girl, saved from worse weight problems only by the boundless energy she expended.

"She would, too," Myeko said, shaking her head and flopping into a recently vacated chair beside Leslie. "Did you know my mother tried to use her as an example for her cousin? You know Noah's had weird eating habits for a while. He's better now, but after he got suspended from school for screaming down the lunchroom when they didn't have hot dogs, Mom decided to invite all of us over for supper at their house. She was hoping Dawn and her industrial-strength appetite would influence Noah."

Christian and Leslie laughed. "Did it work?" Leslie asked.

"Maybe, in a sort of delayed-reaction way. He does eat some other stuff now, but I'm told that every time he's with Mom when she goes food shopping, he asks if she'll get some hot dogs. So Taro's ban on the things is still in force, and Noah doesn't go to the grocery store anymore."

"Probably very wise," Christian said, grinning wearily.

"I bumped into Miyoshi Tokita at the grocery the other day myself," Myeko admitted with a sigh, going limp in her chair. "I couldn't think of anything to say to her, so I finally fell back on the old reliable and asked her if she'd heard from Michiko lately. She said Michiko was glad to see that her stepdaughter's so happy in her marriage to your nephew, Christian, and she's looking forward to her usual vacation here on the island. She's supposed to get here somewhere in the last week of July, I think."

"That's good," said Leslie, "it'll be a treat to see her again." Myeko nodded glumly, and Leslie shared a glance with Christian before peering at her friend curiously. "What's wrong? Something else happened, didn't it?"

Myeko stared at the ground. "Well, it's not exactly like it was a confrontation. You know how Mrs. Tokita is. Very Japanese, ultra-polite and totally self-effacing. That always gave me the creepy-crawlies when I visited Michiko's house when we were growing up. I was always afraid I was committing some gross faux pas in her presence. I mean, half the time I thought just my existence was enough to offend her. I couldn't turn around in there without being afraid I'd break some delicate rule of etiquette."

Nick, having just broken up an altercation between Alexander and Noelle, sat down nearby, watching while Roarke retreated into the house to answer the phone, whose ringing was audible through the open windows behind his desk, and Mariki and her staff busily cleared out garbage and took leftover food back to the kitchen. "Who's this?"

"Toki's mom," Myeko said and quickly summarized what she'd told Christian and Leslie. "I can't imagine being that formal all the time like that."

Nick chuckled. "That's your heritage too, you know. It blows my mind that you don't know any more about it than you do."

"I didn't grow up in that kind of environment," Myeko protested. "Sure, Mom has Japanese ancestry, but she was born and raised in Hawaii. And even though Dad grew up in Japan, the circumstances of his childhood must have influenced him in some way. We had a nice, informal, relaxed existence, all of us, growing up."

Nick shrugged acquiescence. "Okay, I guess that makes some sense. But why does Mrs. Tokita still intimidate you even now that you're an adult?"

"Oh, Nick, seriously. Your friends' parents are always your friends' parents, no matter how long you've known them. Just because I'm grown up now doesn't mean I'm necessarily on their level. I still feel as if I have to bow and show respect for her position or something." Myeko snorted. "The point to all this, in any case, is that she threw me a curveball all of a sudden. She asked me about Alexander and Noelle, and it reminded me suddenly that my kids are still Toki's kids…and her grandchildren."

Leslie queried, "You don't hear much from Toki, do you?"

"No, and he isn't any different from how he ever was, either. After Nick and I got married, he quit sending support checks—guess he figured that Nick brought in plenty of money to provide for them. They don't go to see him anymore, and Noelle's called Nick 'Daddy' for years. Even Alexander calls him 'Dad'. Noelle might not remember Toki, and Alexander never asks about him anymore."

"So what's the situation with him, then?" Leslie asked.

"I didn't want to know, but I felt like I had to be polite and ask. I told Mrs. Tokita that the kids are doing fine, they like school, Alexander's thirteen and Noelle's eleven, they're healthy, blah blah blah. You should've seen her smile when I told her that, like I'd given her the keys to the universe. I felt like the supreme lowlife of the world. So I asked about Toki, and she said now he and his wife have five boys and they're expecting kid number six, and the ultrasounds show that they're finally about to have a girl. And also that Toki proclaimed he's fed up with his nickname and demands to be called Hachiro from now on." She quirked a sour half-smile. "Which is fine by me, because growing up, he was always being confused with my brothers. He's five years older than they are, but our families hung out together when we were a lot younger, so everybody had a terrible time keeping Taro and Tomi and Toki—I mean, Hachiro—separate."

"Well, that's useful," Leslie said with a chuckle. "Michiko explained his name to me one time, so I knew what his real name was, but it used to make me wonder why he went so long letting everybody call him that."

Christian offered, "From what little you've ever said about him, my Rose, I get the feeling that perhaps he let it happen because being called Hachiro would indicate that he was an adult, with the attendant responsibilities, and he just didn't want to face that."

Myeko stared at him; even Nick looked impressed. "Wow, Christian," Myeko said, "that's a fantastic piece of psychoanalysis. I think that has to be it. Before he got married and his wife started manufacturing babies, he was always late with the support payments for Alexander and Noelle, and at least twice he missed paying up entirely, so he was behind too. Once he had a kid by the second wife, though, he shaped up a lot. Maybe he finally decided it was time he came across like an adult, and a stupid kid nickname wasn't going to make him look very mature."

They laughed. "How'd he get the nickname in the first place?" Nick asked.

"Michiko said when he was little he couldn't say his name, especially his first name. All he could say of their last name was the first four letters, so Saburo and Kayoko started calling him Toki, and the nickname stuck. His parents are about the only ones who never picked it up. Kayoko must've invented it." Myeko grinned and explained to Christian and Nick, "She's Michiko's older sister, and Saburo is their older brother. Kayoko babysat us now and then, and she was always calling us cute little names."

"I never met her much, but she was always so sweet," Leslie remembered. "Well, so Toki is Hachiro now, huh? I wonder if the man inside is as adult as the new façade."

Myeko made a scoffing noise. "Him? No way. I wonder sometimes if he even remembers Alexander and Noelle exist. He doesn't even send them birthday cards anymore."

Leslie said slowly, "I remember last year, Michiko was thinking seriously of bringing the entire extended Tokita family together for a reunion cookout at her parents' house—the parents, all five kids, the spouses and all the grandchildren. Don't be surprised if that idea comes back up again. You might want to consider having a nice long talk with her, Myeko, whenever she does get here."

Myeko was staring at her as if she'd announced that Roarke was shutting down Fantasy Island. _"What?_ She wouldn't ask me to bring the kids, would she? It's like I said, Alexander and Noelle barely know their father anymore—they've put Nick in that position, and frankly, that's great with me. Nick's a better father to them than Toki…uh, I mean, Hachiro was. Cripes, I can't even remember to call that turkey Hachiro. All they need is a big fight between us because I can't remember his real name and I haven't let them see their 'real' father, et cetera, ad nausea. They're better off without us there."

Leslie grinned at Myeko's deliberate malapropism and kidded gently, "And you wondered why I thought Toki—sorry, Hachiro—was such a jerk when we were in school."

They all laughed, and Myeko looked curiously relieved. "Listen, Leslie, if you can't remember to call him Hachiro either, then I feel less like the nasty creepy ex-wife who's deliberately keeping her kids from a whole raft of cousins, aunts and uncles, and a set of doting grandparents. Even if that's what I am."

"Leslie's right, hon, I think you're better off talking with Michiko about this thing," Nick advised. "Even if all you do is explain your reasons for not wanting to take Noelle and Alexander to this cookout, at least then you'll have stated your position, and Michiko can do whatever she wants with it."

Myeko eyed him gloomily. "Yeah, and what if she hands down a royal order that I have to show up with them?"

Christian burst out laughing. "Do you really think I have any authority outside Lilla Jordsö? It's the same with Michiko. She may command respect all over the world, but an 'order' like that would be rather a waste of queenly authority, which she can't wield here anyway and most likely wouldn't want to. Don't forget, she comes back here to take a break from her role as a queen, and since you and Leslie and your other friends all grew up with her, she wouldn't want to pull that sort of rank on you."

"He's right, Myeko," Leslie said, snickering. "Relax already. It may not even come up; it depends on how determined Michiko really is. Don't worry about it until and unless she brings it up, okay? Otherwise you'll just ruin your entire summer."

"That's for sure," Nick agreed, grinning, "not to mention mine." Myeko punched him in the upper arm, and they all laughed again, the adults rising to start loading birthday presents into cars. Noelle was sitting near the triplets, keeping an eye on them, for which Leslie thanked her with a smile on one of their trips back and forth between the clearing and the cars. As it happened, everything fit into Christian and Leslie's car, and the Okadas called out their good nights and headed for home while Christian and Leslie gathered up sleeping triplets and settled them into their car seats for the ride home.

Roarke came out of the main house to wish them good night as well. "I don't think I've seen quite such an enthusiastic birthday party in a great many years."

Leslie sighed and grinned tolerantly. "Yeah, between older kids running around nonstop, and little kids throwing cake and wrapping paper at each other, and everybody cheering the triplets on every time one of them managed to tear paper off something…"

"Which wasn't often," Christian interjected, chuckling. "I felt as though it were my own birthday, with all the gifts I unwrapped this evening. Ah, well, at least we have plenty of photographs and that videotape Brian took to remember it by." Brian Knight had bought a camcorder not long after his son's birth, and used it on every special occasion in Kevin's life; he had offered to make a tape of the triplets' first birthday for the Enstads.

"You did receive an impressive number of things for them," Roarke understated, casting a glance at the loaded car.

"That bewilders me completely," Christian complained lightly. "Leslie and I gave them exactly one gift apiece—those quilts we had made up of their outgrown T-shirts. I'm beginning to wish I had counted all the boxes I opened. We never told anyone to send anything, and yet we have a small mountain of things from my family, our friends, and anyone who felt inclined to send something along. For all I know, there are presents from the mailman and the police chief in there."

Laughing, Roarke dropped a hand on his shoulder. "You may find yourselves blaming some of the people of Lilla Jordsö for that," he said. "Didn't you say that last month Leslie received a package filled with periodicals from your native country, all of which included birthday felicitations? You might wish to watch for another such package in regard to the children."

"I suppose so," Leslie agreed, grinning again. "Face it, my love, you're still the most popular royal-family member in the country, even though you're not in the country."

"If Anna-Kristina decides to do that, I'm going to warn her not to bother with the ones for my birthday," Christian muttered, mostly good-naturedly. "Ah, well, I suppose we'd better get going. It's been a very long day and I'm half inclined to take tomorrow off just to recover from it."

Mariki appeared out of the gathering darkness just then and presented him with a white cardboard box. "The rest of the babies' cake, Prince Christian," she said. "If you and Miss Leslie feel like a midnight snack, that should do you just fine."

"I daresay it'll be more of a nine-o'clock snack than a midnight one, but thank you in any case, Mariki," Christian said humorously. "Thank you for all you've done here, and thank you also, Mr. Roarke, for sacrificing your lawn here to the mini-massacre." Amid the laughter, Christian and Leslie finally climbed into the car and took their leave.

Mariki went back to clearing away the last of the party detritus while Roarke watched the taillights of the Enstads' car retreating up the lane and then winking out of sight as they made the turn onto the Ring Road. Secretly he was almost sorry his grandchildren's birthday was over; it had made a very entertaining distraction from the problems he had been dealing with in regard to Hotaia Sese's presence on the island. The only progress that had been made in the case of the apparently murdered man Leslie and their guest had found the previous weekend had been his identification: one Elmer Petrakis, with an address in Samoa. His driver's license had provided the basic information, but little else; and public disclosure of his death had brought no response. He was expecting the report from the autopsy sometime the next day, and wondered whether that would help to solve the mystery, or merely deepen it.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- June 3, 2005

Roarke unfolded the single sheet of paper he'd received from the island policeman who had just departed, and read the autopsy report while Leslie sorted and separated the day's mail, glancing at him frequently. After a few minutes he shook his head and dropped the sheet, frowning and closing his eyes briefly.

"Mind if I look at that?" Leslie ventured and reached for the paper. Roarke nodded, and she picked it up and read it herself, a look of revulsion gradually creeping over her face. By the time she finished and looked up, he had been watching her for a couple of minutes and had a gently amused expression. "What?"

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked.

Leslie rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm okay, but I'm just grateful I didn't see any more than I did. Shot, apparently point-blank, and bled to death when the bullet tore a hole in his aorta? No wonder the blood was spraying like that."

"Indeed," her father murmured.

"But I think it's very interesting that they discovered he had emphysema," Leslie went on, "just like I thought he might. And an advanced case at that…"

"I find the most interesting fact to be that traces of black lightning were found in his blood," Roarke said. "If Hotaia Sese was in fact his killer, as he appears to have indicated, it now seems all the more likely that Sese is dealing the drug."

"Does black lightning do any good against emphysema?" Leslie asked.

"Amakarna in its natural state has been known to have a somewhat palliative effect on emphysema, but as with any other illness except for tuberculosis, the results differ far too much from individual to individual to make it a reliable treatment. The drug, however, would have no effect, to my knowledge. I think it more likely that the man was using it to alleviate pain than for any curative power."

"Hm…" Leslie folded the paper and put it back on the desk. "Well, at least we know who he was and what killed him. But that doesn't solve the bigger problem."

"Indeed," Roarke agreed quietly. "All we can do now is wait, and remain vigilant."

§ § § -- June 5, 2005

"Yahoo, summer vacation at last!" exulted Denise Polidari, meeting Stephanie Sensei and Haruko Miyamoto in her front yard. "I thought it'd never get here! Hey, Stephanie, do you think we can finish my bracelet before Mom and I leave for Boston?"

"You're going back to your home state?" Stephanie asked.

"For a visit," Denise clarified. "I'm gonna see my dad's parents and my sister, and Mom's gonna touch base with her friends from college. But before we go, I want to get my bracelet finished, so I can show all my old friends back home."

"I guess we can do that," Stephanie agreed. "When do you leave?"

"Next Saturday, and we stay till right after the Fourth of July, so we can go to the Pops concert at the Hatch Shell on the Esplanade." Denise saw Haruko's and Stephanie's bewildered looks and said, "In Boston. You know, the one they show on TV every year."

"Oh, I think I caught part of that on TV last year by accident," said Haruko. "It was the day after, I think. I was channel-surfing and stumbled over it. Anyway, it sounds like fun. Do you think we can go to the craft shop today? I still want a light-blue bead like that one on your bracelet."

"Me too," said Denise, "and I ran out the other day. I was making some for my friends as presents and I had to quit in the middle of one because all my beads were used up. So I need every color they've got."

"Okay," Stephanie agreed. "Let's go and see what's there."

The girls rode their bikes into town and chained them to a bike rack in the pedestrian area, then made their way to the craft shop and began perusing the selections of beads. They came in every size, shape and color; there were solid beads and translucent beads, ranging from clear ones to jet-black. The girls spent some ten minutes going through the selection, but it became clear before too long that all the colors were bright, almost gaudy.

Denise, holding a small cup about half full of beads in all colors, shook her head in perplexity. "I can't believe they don't have any pale colors. I mean, Haruko, weren't you looking for a pale-green one, like your birthstone?"

"Yeah," Haruko said absently, squinting into a clear plastic tub. "Well, why don't we go up and ask the cashier?"

The girls went to the checkout, and while the native-Polynesian teenager was totaling Denise's beads, Haruko asked, "Do you have any beads in this color?" Stephanie lifted her bracelet and pointed at the pale-blue bead.

The teenager peered at it and then shook her head. "No, we don't carry any like that. I've never even seen any in that color. I can ask if they're available to be ordered, but I'm not sure we can get any the same color as that one." She looked up at Stephanie. "Where'd you get it?"

"In Samoa," Stephanie said. "I used to live there, I've been here only a couple months."

The girl nodded. "Maybe you could write to the store where you bought your beads there, or look them up online, and ask them if they'll ship you some beads like that one. It's very pretty—I'm sorry we don't have any like it."

"Thanks anyway," said Haruko, and the girl smiled and finished ringing up Denise's beads. She paid for them, and the three girls left the shop and glanced at one another.

"Oh well," said Denise. "Tell you what, when I'm back in Brookline I'll ask my grandmother if she can take me to some craft stores, and we'll look for that color bead there. If we find any, I'll buy all the ones I can afford."

Stephanie stared at her bracelet, at the ice-blue bead that seemed so out of place among all the other, brightly colored ones flanking it. "That girl had a great idea about looking for it at the shop in Samoa, except…my mother got it for me, and I don't even know what shop she went to. If I knew where the heck my mother was, I could ask her to get some more of those."

"Well, let's go back to my house anyway and make some more bracelets," said Denise. "I really want to get started."

"I should too," Stephanie mused. "I made some really good money selling bracelets to girls at school before it let out for the summer. Come on, let's go."

Around mid-afternoon Stephanie and Haruko gathered up their bracelet-making paraphernalia and prepared to head for home. They were both tired, and Denise admitted to having eyestrain from threading so many beads, so they were all glad to quit. Stephanie accompanied Haruko to the townhouse where she lived with her parents and sister, then pedaled her bike back through the town square and veered down the path her dad had shown her that he always took to get home from work. The trail narrowed considerably once it got well into the jungle, and Stephanie had to get off her bike and walk it along.

At some point she swore she heard noises behind her, as if someone were plowing through, and maybe hacking away, bushes and vines and overhanging branches. Her dad had said that all the really dangerous animals kept to the thick, heavy jungle in the interior of the island, and around here there were only lots of exotic tropical birds. _Which,_ she thought uneasily, _oughta mean that the only thing that can make noises like that is a person, stomping through the bushes and stuff._ She glanced nervously behind her but didn't see anything. She might have mounted her bike and ridden it in order to put some distance between herself and whatever was back there, but the trail was too winding and narrow, and she didn't dare risk it. She did pick up her pace, however.

Then a stick snapped loudly behind her; she recognized the sound a dead branch makes when stepped on, and it scared her into a run, wheeling her bike along. Just as she was beginning to labor for air, she caught a glimpse of white through the thick foliage, and veered onto a small side trail. Sure enough, a few seconds later it coughed her up onto the flagstone terrace behind the main house. Relieved that help was at hand, she let the bike fall onto the ground and rushed through the open French shutters into the study, where Roarke sat at his desk going through the mail. He looked up in surprise when she barreled inside. "Hello, young lady, how can I help you? Is something wrong?"

"I think so," she panted, hands over her stomach, trying to get her breath back. "My name's Stephanie Sensei…um, my Aunt Myeko's a friend of Miss Leslie."

"Oh yes, Stephanie," Roarke said. "Sit down, take a moment to compose yourself. Are you all right?"

"For now," Stephanie said and gratefully collapsed into a chair. She flashed a glance out the doors, where her bicycle lay abandoned on the terrace, one wheel slowly spinning. Reassured, she returned her attention to Roarke. "Somebody was following me on that path. I mean…I'm pretty sure I heard footsteps, and noises like somebody was shoving aside bushes and things. And then they stepped on a stick and it snapped. I've stepped on enough dead branches to know what it sounds like." She worried her bracelet, staring wide-eyed at Roarke, gnawing on her lower lip. "I knew I was never gonna make it home, so when I saw this house through the trees I came in here."

"A wise choice, Stephanie," Roarke said approvingly. He studied her in concern. "Tell me, did your father explain to you and your younger brother that we suspect your uncle is here, on the island?"

Stephanie blinked, surprised. "Yeah, he showed us a flyer with his picture on it, that he got at the police station last weekend. I know my mom's brother's a drug dealer and all that, but Mom isn't on this island…is she? I mean, what other reason would he have for coming here, except to see Mom?"

"Oh, there's more to it than that," Roarke began and noticed her nervous movements with the bracelet. "What's that?"

"Just my bracelet," Stephanie said, displaying it at him.

Roarke stared in amazement at the ice-blue stone that winked at him from in between a collection of gaudily colored glass beads. "May I see it, please?"

"Sure." Bewildered, Stephanie tugged the bracelet off her wrist and handed it to him. "It's not much really. It's just a bead bracelet…my friends and I've been making them."

"I see," Roarke murmured, cradling the bracelet in his palm and gingerly fingering the light-blue bead. Stephanie watched, wondering what was going on. After a moment he looked up and asked intensely, "Stephanie, where did you get this…bead?"

An uneasy roiling began to gently stir Stephanie's gut. "My mother gave it to me," she said. "It was right before she packed up and left. We did that bracelet together as a project, and she gave me that one and said it would look really good on there with the other beads. I guess it does. A lot of kids mention it whenever they look at my bracelet."

"Your mother gave it to you?" Roarke said. "Where did she get it?"

Stephanie hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "She just had it from someplace. I don't know where."

"Little wonder," Roarke murmured and focused directly on her at last, with a strange look in his dark eyes that made her want to squirm. "She didn't say anything in particular about this bead?"

"No," Stephanie said, wary. "Mr. Roarke, what's the matter?"

Roarke sighed gently and held the bracelet up so that it swung gently back and forth from his fingers. "Stephanie, it's very fortunate that you came here. What you have here is not a bead at all. It's a diamond—specifically, the Blue Moon diamond, the one that was crafted especially for your mother when she became Miss Samoa."

Shock rocketed through Stephanie and she gaped at the bead…no, the diamond. Was that thing really her mother's precious gem? She'd heard about it from time to time as she was growing up, but never had she thought she'd even see it, let alone find herself wearing it on a cheap little bracelet made of elastic string and glass beads! _"That's_ the Blue Moon?" she finally blurted, unable to take her eyes off it.

"Indeed it is," Roarke confirmed.

"But…but why would she give it to me?"

"For safekeeping, I suspect," Roarke mused, frowning, his own gaze going back to the diamond as it swung in his hand, reflecting oblong stars on the ceiling in the light from the glass-shaded desk lamp. He let a moment's silence elapse, then came to attention and folded the diamond into his fist along with the beads. "I believe the safest thing I can do at the moment is to take you home myself. Is your father there?"

"No…he works at Enstad Computer Services," Stephanie said. "He works on weekends because he says that's when Prince Christian needs him most. My grandparents are at home though."

"Good," said Roarke. "Bring your bicycle through here—I don't think it wise for you to take it the long way around to the lane. I'll take you home myself—it's best that your grandparents know what is happening. If you don't mind, Stephanie, I'd like to hold the bracelet for at least a day or two. It will keep you out of danger at the very least."

"Sure, Mr. Roarke, keep it as long as you want," Stephanie said, spooked. "If that's really the Blue Moon…do you think my drug-dealer uncle's after me for it?"

"Not after you, particularly, but he does want the Blue Moon," Roarke confirmed, leading the way through the study while Stephanie picked up her bike and carried it across the floor, loath to make dirty tracks on the Persian rug. "If he is as ruthless as your father has claimed he is, he'll have few, if any, scruples about harming his own niece in the attempt to obtain the diamond. If it's in my custody, you'll be safe, and we may stand a better chance of apprehending him."

"What's he want it for?" Stephanie asked, wheeling her bike across the porch.

"That, we don't yet know," Roarke said, "but your father has a theory and your grandparents are aware of it. You can put your bicycle in the back here." He lowered the tailgate on a rover parked near the fountain, and Stephanie hefted up her bike and stashed it inside.

"Dad thinks Mom's got a drug problem," Stephanie ventured when Roarke turned onto the Ring Road, "but that didn't sound right to me. Mom was never weird or out of it, like druggies are. I mean, she was like she always was, except…more energetic, and she got mad at us a lot more."

"Your father is correct," said Roarke, "but the drug your mother is addicted to is not a common one." He explained black lightning to her while she stared at him with her mouth hanging open. "It may have affected your baby sister during your mother's pregnancy with her, but I am not entirely certain to what extent."

"I knew Dad and my grandparents were worried that Tia never smiles or makes any noise," Stephanie said. "Do they know about this black lightning stuff?"

Roarke nodded, bringing the car to a halt in front of the Sensei home. "I do have a little more information to give them in any case. Quickly, get your bicycle, and then I'll explain everything to your grandparents."

Tadashi and Junko Sensei welcomed him inside, but their smiles vanished when Stephanie told her story at Roarke's urging. "Good Lord," Junko uttered when she finished, "why on earth is this man after her now? As if it isn't enough he's been through our house and making threats at Taro…and we don't even have what he wants!"

Roarke withdrew Stephanie's bracelet from his pocket. "Unfortunately, Mrs. Sensei, I am afraid that in fact you do. Or, more correctly, Stephanie did." He opened his palm and displayed the bracelet. "The pale blue stone is in fact the Blue Moon diamond."

Junko blanched, and Tadashi stared at the bracelet, then at his granddaughter, then at Roarke. "All this time she's been wearing that thing, and we thought it was no more than an inexpensive homemade bracelet! Stephanie, how did you get that stone?"

"Mom gave it to me," Stephanie said helplessly. "She helped me make this bracelet and put it on there. Grandpa, I'm sorry, I got us all in trouble, didn't I?"

Tadashi softened and shook his head, hugging her. "No, no, Stephanie, of course not, you didn't know that stone was the Blue Moon diamond, after all." He looked up at Roarke again. "It seems Iriata did quite a clever job of hiding that diamond. But now that the secret is out, how are we going to keep Iriata's no-good brother and his minions off our backs now? If someone was following Stephanie on the trail, as she said, then they know the Blue Moon is on her bracelet."

Roarke nodded. "Precisely. It's my suspicion that she and her friends must have been seen at the craft shop asking about beads the same color as the diamond. Whether the person in question is Hotaia Sese or someone in his employ is essentially moot, for he will force a direct confrontation now that he knows exactly where the stone is."

"What are we supposed to do, then?" Junko demanded.

Roarke smiled and said soothingly, "Patience, Mrs. Sensei. I myself will keep the bracelet, at least for a few days. Stephanie, you may wish to make a new bracelet, and try to find a bead that at least approximates the color of the diamond, if you can't match it."

"It won't be a very good disguise, Mr. Roarke," Stephanie said nervously. "That's why Haruko and Denise and I were in the craft shop to begin with—we were buying more beads, and we asked if they could get any the same color as the diamond. The girl at the checkout said she'd never seen any beads that color and didn't even know if they were available."

Roarke considered the problem for a moment, then nodded to himself. "I believe I can solve the problem," he said. "Leslie should have returned from her rounds by the time I get back to the main house. I'll procure what you need and send her here with it, and you can complete a new bracelet then. And if you'll advise Taro as to what is transpiring here, you can work together as a family to take safety measures."

‡ ‡ ‡

"Well, didja get it?" Hotaia demanded. He was on an extremely short fuse lately: the Fantasy Island authorities had more brains and were quicker than he'd given them credit for. He and Earl had come here alone, since Hotaia didn't trust anyone else; but almost as soon as Earl had gone ashore to start tracking down Taro Sensei, their illegal presence on the island had been discovered, and Hotaia had been forced to hide till nightfall arrived and allowed him to disembark from the yacht, which had promptly been impounded the next day. There was no way to get back on board; there were cops guarding it twenty-four hours a day. So Hotaia and Earl were stuck here, looking for their quarry. They'd asked a few questions and learned in short order where Taro worked and lived, but before they could make any more moves, Earl had witnessed Taro being beaten up by none other than that turncoat Elmer. It had been a singular pleasure for Hotaia to go out and kill the thief himself; but Elmer had apparently been found before he expired and been able to tell who'd done him in. So now Hotaia was a wanted man, with his face on posters and flyers all over the island, and he'd had no choice but to go to ground in a storage shed—located, ironically, not too far from the main house. Sometimes he wondered why he hadn't yet been discovered.

Earl snorted. "That kid had too quick a head start on me, boss. By the time I was within reach of her, she'd made it to Roarke's place."

Hotaia cursed roundly and loudly; Earl looked nervously in all directions and Hotaia realized his temper was getting the better of him. "So now Roarke's got the Blue Moon," he muttered, unconsciously clenching his jaw. "There ain't no help for it, Earl, you're gonna have to go in there and get it. We can't leave here without it, or Gianni's gonna come after me. Iriata owes me, I owe him, and we gotta have that diamond."

Earl balked. "Are you freakin' kidding me, boss? It's _Roarke's_ house!"

"You believe every fairy story you ever hear? That Roarke might have powers or whatever it is they say he's got, but he ain't immortal, and he can't be all that bright either. I been by that place often enough to know he leaves the door unlocked all day and goes out all the time doin' whatever it is he does. All ya gotta do is keep an eye on the place, wait till Roarke's out, and then go in and get the stone."

"He's got an assistant. I've seen her. What if she's there?"

"You scared of a broad?" Hotaia sneered. "Ya big stupid chicken, just knock her out and get the damn diamond! How easy can it get?"

Earl looked dubious, but he nodded. "Okay, as long as Roarke isn't there. Frankly, I'd rather his assistant wasn't either. You know she's his daughter, right? It's in all the travel brochures. If he's like most fathers, he'll be out for blood from anybody that hurts his kid."

"Since when did that matter a damn to ya? Just go do it, Earl. I gotta have that diamond before Gianni gets ahold of me. And trust me, if he gets ahold of me, he'll get ahold of you too, and anybody else he can get his mitts on. So there's plenty at stake."

"Yeah, yeah, all right. I'll see what I can do."

"Ya better just do it. Our lives're on the line, Earl, old buddy. Especially yours, if you go in there and you show up without the diamond." Hotaia gave him a look whose meaning Earl couldn't miss, then flapped a dismissive hand at him and watched him trudge out of the storage shed. He didn't much care what happened to Earl, after all was said and done; but if Earl failed to get the Blue Moon, he'd have to do it himself, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop him—not even Roarke, not at this stage of the game.


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- June 5, 2005

"The Blue Moon diamond," said Leslie softly, staring at the twinkling gem in Roarke's hands. "And all this time it was on a teenager's bracelet!"

"Rather boggles the imagination, doesn't it?" Christian murmured. It was suppertime and Roarke had just finished explaining the entire story thus far to his daughter and son-in-law, since they had both seen fragments of the case and had been wondering aloud what the whole thing was about.

"Indeed it does," Roarke said. "No matter who may be actually looking for the stone, ultimately it is Hotaia Sese who wants it." He cleared his throat. "Not to change the subject, but I wonder if you would remain with Leslie. The island website needs several updates, and I have meant to ask you if you would make the changes for me."

"Of course, Mr. Roarke," Christian said immediately. "I'll take the triplets home and then return here to work on the site for you."

Roarke smiled. "Thank you, Christian. It should be a quiet evening, then."

‡ ‡ ‡

"Boss, it ain't happening," said Earl, discouraged, leaning against the wall. "I tried five times to get into that house, and every single time, I could hear voices. Something like that, I don't want to risk being caught."

"What kind of voices?" Hotaia wanted to know.

"Human voices," Earl said, looking blank.

Hotaia rolled his eyes. "You moron. I _mean,_ were they guys or broads?"

"Oh." Earl essayed a sheepish grin, which Hotaia pointedly ignored, then shrugged weakly. "Women, I think, mostly. But there's no telling if Roarke was around or not, and even if he wasn't, that didn't mean he couldn't walk in on me right in the middle of the heist. I can't do it, boss. You wanna fire me, that's fine, but I can't."

Hotaia slowly got to his feet and advanced on Earl, who got a look about him that said he knew what was coming and tensed. Hotaia glared. "Yeah, moron, you better be scared. You been lettin' broads and fairy tales scare ya into walkin' the straight and narrow. Lucky for you, I'm feelin' generous right now. I don't wanna see you around anymore, ya got that? I don't care how you get off this island, that's your problem, but you better not show your face around me anymore. But if ya don't get your scrawny bum outta here in five seconds, I'm gonna stop bein' generous and shoot ya the way I shot Elmer. So get lost."

Earl took the hint and scrambled out the door, and Hotaia poked his head out after him to make sure he really did get lost. When Earl had disappeared into the jungle, he shot a few hurried glances around the area, ascertained that nobody had seen him, and retracted his head like a turtle pulling back into its shell.

So now he was down to doing his own dirty work. That, he had no problem with. He hadn't gotten where he was by being a soft-hearted little coward who jumped a foot every time he heard a female voice. Hotaia settled down atop a crate and began to check his gun, making sure it was fully loaded. Humans, he figured, were expendable; there were six billion of them, after all, and it wasn't as if they were an endangered species. If a few of them got wasted in the process of his getting what was rightfully his, then that was just the nature of the business. He actually started to whistle while he reloaded his gun, confident that he could beat anybody he encountered and get away clear with the Blue Moon.

‡ ‡ ‡

The evening was quiet, and as darkness gathered and thickened, both Christian and Leslie relaxed and got absorbed in the work they were doing. In the near distance a night crier took up its call, and the cheerful _chee chee chee_ of crickets filled the room. Now and then a soft, cool breeze drifted into the room and gently stirred hair and lightweight objects. Leslie put a paperweight atop a short stack of loose fantasy-request letters and continued writing checks to pay bills.

_CRASH!_ The inner-foyer door exploded open so suddenly and violently that it came off its hinges and slammed to the floor. Christian whipped around in his chair and Leslie screamed involuntarily; they both shot to their feet when a burly Polynesian man, close to a match for Christian's height and noticeably bulkier, stomped over the fallen door and into the study, gun out and aimed at Leslie. "Where the hell is it?" he roared.

"Where's what?" she asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, broad! You know what I want, and you know where it is, so tell me now and nobody gets hurt, ya got me?"

Leslie glared at him, suddenly angry herself. "What is it with all you damned criminals anyway? Do you think everybody reads minds? _'Where is it? You know what I want!'_ Well, I have news for you, pal, I'm not in the telepathy business. So you might as well spell out what you're looking for, and then maybe I can give you some information."

"_Heilige hjusande ödet,_ Leslie, don't provoke him!" Christian cried out.

Their assailant smiled. "Smart guy ya got here, lady. Ya better listen to him. But since you asked, okay…and don't tell me ya know nothin' about it. I'm lookin' for a diamond name of Blue Moon, and I know Roarke's got it stashed away in here someplace, since my niece got too smart for her own britches and came lookin' for help from him. Don't even try tellin' me Roarke didn't tell ya where he hid it—I ain't buyin' that. Just get it for me and I'll get outta here and leave you two alone. All I want is the Blue Moon."

"You really think Father would make a point of telling me and everybody else in this house where that diamond is? You're nuts if you believe that," Leslie muttered. Roarke really hadn't told either her or Christian where the Blue Moon was, and she could think of only two places it might be—in Roarke's room upstairs, or in the one locked drawer of the desk at which she now stood. She drew in a breath. "As a matter of fact, I _don't_ know where it is. Threatening me with that gun isn't going to cause the knowledge to magically take up residence in my head, despite what you seem to think."

"_Herregud,_ Leslie Enstad," Christian muttered. "You're terrifying me."

She cast him a glance that begged him to trust her. "Christian, my love, please…will you check in Father's room? Please."

Christian assessed the intruder dubiously and said, "Do you think he'll let me go and look without putting a bullet into my back?"

The burly man swore impatiently. "I said all I want's the Blue Moon, weren't ya listenin', prince? I ain't puttin' any bullets in ya unless ya decide not to cooperate with me, so get up there and look, like the broad told ya to." He waved the gun towards the stairs two or three times, and Christian finally headed for the steps, still warily watching the man over his shoulder as he ascended.

When he was gone, the man turned to Leslie. "Okay, lady, what about the desk there? Ya sure he didn't stick it in there someplace?"

"I'll look," Leslie said, and reached for the gold box where Roarke still kept keys to the vehicles and to the locked desk drawer. The intruder stiffened and raised his gun, and she shot him a glare. "You think this box is big enough to hide a gun or something?"

"How should I know?" the man shouted. "This's Fantasy Island, ain't it? How do I know what ya got in there? No sneaky moves, or _you'll_ get the bullet, never mind the prince. Take it nice and slow, and make sure I can see everything you do."

Glaring at him all the while, Leslie picked up the box, lifted the top and displayed the contents at him. "See? Keys, no more. Fantasy Island this may be, but it's not a James Bond movie with all those gadgets. If you'd just calm down and let me look, you might get what you want that much quicker." She was more than a little amazed at herself; but something in her rebelled at being disturbed like this, during a quiet, peaceful interlude with her husband, and there had been enough crooks in the past who'd tried to threaten them out of something that she was just plain fed up with it.

"Well, hurry up," the man grumbled, and Leslie took the drawer key out of the box and unlocked the drawer where Roarke kept the charter-plane passes. She scanned the interior carefully and peered under a couple of folders, but the diamond wasn't there.

The intruder was leaning as far over the desktop as he could without losing his balance, trying to see inside the drawer, and he apparently saw enough that he too realized the diamond wasn't inside. "Huh. Well, lady, then where else ya think it is?"

"To quote you," Leslie shouted at him, "how should I know?"

The man's beefy face turned red and he raised the gun till it was pointed right at her forehead. "You've pushed me all you're gonna, ya got that? Your life ends right now!" He cocked the hammer, and Leslie squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath and concentrating hard. If Roarke's instructions had ever sunk into her head, now was the time for them to work. A piece of her brain hoped Christian had the good sense to stay upstairs…

…and then she heard a multi-voiced _"huh??"_ and opened her eyes, sagging with relief when she found herself in the meeting room of the council house. It was almost all the way across the island, so she was even more surprised that her little trick had worked.

She saw Roarke arise from his chair and grinned sheepishly. "Hi, Father."

Roarke gave her that classic parental look, but clearly realized something was afoot and requested of the mumbling council members, "Please, everyone, calm yourselves. Leslie wouldn't do this except in an extreme emergency. What is it?"

She hurriedly explained the situation as it had stood when she performed the disappearance trick he had taught her to use in fantasy checkups. "I don't know who the guy is for sure, but I have a feeling it's probably that Hotaia Sese. Christian was still upstairs—please, let him stay there—" this, she murmured primarily to herself— "and that's all I know. He has a gun and he claims he won't use it if he gets the Blue Moon, but I'm not so sure."

Roarke nodded. "Very well. I will be back as soon as possible," he told the council, all of whom were still staring at Leslie with varying degrees of disbelief, and without waiting for any responses, he took his daughter's hand and left the room.

"Why didn't we…" she began.

"For their sake," Roarke said with a flash of humor, glancing back at the closed meeting-room door. "You've given them more than enough of a shock for one evening, don't you think?" She had to laugh, and he smiled back. "Don't worry, child, I suspect we'll return to an anticlimax. Take my hand and close your eyes."

Seconds later they were standing in the study of the main house, where Leslie found herself staring at a white-faced Christian. "My love, are you all right?"

"_Va i heilige ödets namn kommer at henda nästa…"_ he mumbled dazedly in his own tongue and blinked slowly once, his hazel eyes huge and filled with shock. He went on murmuring in _jordiska_, and Leslie stopped trying to mentally translate what he was saying and sprang to his side to give him physical support. Roarke, meanwhile, looked around the room and noticed a thickset Polynesian man unconscious on the floor, a gun barrel peeking out from behind a chair leg.

"Is this your intruder?" he asked, picking up the phone.

"Yeah, that's him," said Leslie in surprise, staring at the gunman and then laughing. "I performed my little vanishing act right in front of him. Guess it took him by surprise."

"_Ach, du får beretta den otroliga lilla sagan igen,"_ was Christian's stunned comment.

Leslie giggled at Roarke's questioning look. "He said, essentially, 'you can say that again'," she replied and turned to her husband. "Come on, my love, you'd better sit down."

" '_A då?"_ he asked blankly and then blinked rapidly a few times, giving his head a couple of hard, sharp shakes. Focusing on her again, he eyed her sternly. "Sit down, nothing. You're going to explain just what in the name of fate you did a moment ago."

"If you two would be so kind as to postpone explanations until the police arrive," said Roarke, having made the call while Christian and Leslie were talking, "you can tell me how the situation progressed to this little tableau."

Christian stared at the man on the floor. "Is that Sese, the crook you've been telling us about?" At Roarke's nod, he went on: "I heard Leslie shout and I was certain I heard the click of a gun hammer—I know that sound from my military service—and debated coming down and trying to prevent becoming a widower for the second time. But then I heard a few thumps, and there was absolute silence after that. I didn't trust it, so I waited a moment, but I still heard nothing. So I finally came down and saw him lying on the floor like that, and was about to go over there and make certain he couldn't get to his gun whenever he came around—and then you two reappeared. I've never had such a shock in my life."

"I'm sorry, my love," Leslie said with a half-sheepish, half-delighted giggle. "But if you were shocked, I guess Sese was blown away. When I first saw you, you were so dead white, I thought you'd faint yourself."

They all looked around then as several policemen stepped through the doorway and around the dislodged door; one paused long enough to pick it up and lean it against the wall, with Roarke watching in surprised annoyance, while the rest came in to secure the still-unconscious Hotaia Sese. "What happened to that door?" Roarke demanded.

"He kicked it in," said Christian, gesturing at Sese.

Roarke shook his head, then sighed quietly and stepped back to give the cops room to haul Sese off the floor and handcuff him. The manhandling they gave him seemed to rouse him; he came back to life with a start and then froze in the cops' grip. "I thought it was all some damn nightmare," he groaned. "Ya mean it ain't?"

"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Sese, no," said Roarke, catching Hotaia Sese's horrified attention. "You have accumulated quite a laundry list of dubious achievements in the last several days, have you not?" He began to tick off on his fingers. "Illegally gaining entry to my island; trespassing on my property; damaging said property; threatening my daughter and son-in-law; and possession of a firearm, which is very heavily regulated on this island, for your information and future reference. Attempted theft…" He reached into his pocket and withdrew something. "…of this, I presume." Stephanie Sensei's bracelet dangled from his hand, the Blue Moon diamond in plain view, throwing sparks of light over the walls and ceiling. "Contrary to your opinion, Mr. Sese, this diamond does not belong to you, and you had no right to it. And oh yes…before I forget, I believe we may be able to pin a murder on you, atop everything else."

"Ya can't prove I killed Elmer Petrakis," Sese snarled.

"Perhaps not—until you spoke this moment," Roarke said with a faint smile. "You've just implicated yourself, Mr. Sese. After all, I didn't say who was murdered, did I?" Sese blanched, and Roarke's smile widened momentarily, then faded. "Even had you not given yourself away just now, I might remind you that ballistics will eventually provide the answer to the question of who Mr. Petrakis' murderer is. And I suspect evidence will point to you." He nodded curtly and addressed the cops with, "Take him away, and be certain he is well locked up. He's a desperate man—someone is after him."

"How d'you know?" Sese yelled over his shoulder as the police constables began to tow him out of the room.

"I know far more than you give me credit for," said Roarke simply and handed Sese's gun to the policeman who had picked up the kicked-in door. "Thank you."

"Fate save us," Christian murmured when they were gone. "What an evening."

"Indeed," said Roarke humorously and gestured at the love seat. "Both of you, sit down. Tell me precisely what occurred here."

Christian and Leslie took turns recounting the evening's events, and then Christian peered suspiciously at his wife. "What about your magic trick, then?"

"My apologies, Christian, but I am afraid that is a trade secret," said Roarke with a twinkle in his dark eyes, "and not something Leslie is at liberty to share with you. However, I dare suggest you might be grateful for her ability to perform that trick, for without it, the outcome of your adventure here would assuredly have been much different."

"I'll concede that," Christian gave in with somewhat reluctant grace.

Leslie smiled at him and wrapped one of her hands around one of his. "Would it make you feel any better if I tell you that here, in the main house, is the only place I can do it? My starting and ending points have to be somewhere in here, or else it doesn't work. So I'm not going to blink out of existence one day in our living room in front of you and the triplets, if you were worrying about that."

Christian said with exaggerated relief, "Well, _that's_ a load off my mind." Roarke and Leslie burst into laughter, and he finally grinned, shaking his head. "All right, all right. I only wish you'd described this thing to me before you decided to implement it, my Rose. I confess, there are times when the nature of your job scares me."

Leslie grinned. "Those 'magic tricks' are part of the fun. Not that I can do many of them, just that one so far, and Father's trying to teach me a couple of other things. But I have my limitations, so it's not like I'm going to turn into some sort of witch or something." Christian sat back, breathing a little deeply but still holding her hand. She squeezed it and then turned to Roarke. "What was that you said to the constables about someone being after Sese?"

"Someone _is_ after him," Roarke said. "I did some fairly extensive research on the re-emergence of black lightning. As I've mentioned, it can be traced back easily enough to one source—the LiSciola family."

"That damned greedy count again," Christian said instantly, his voice flinty.

"Surprisingly, no." Roarke took in their startled expressions and smiled a little, the twinkle disappearing from his eyes and his lips thinning into a grim line. "It's my guess that Hotaia Sese's supplier is the same person who has been implicated by a number of other dealers in black lightning who have recently been taken into custody. They have all named a certain 'Gianni' when pressed for details about the origin of their stock, and when I looked into that, I understood who the ultimate source is. Not Count LiSciola, Christian, but rather his son-in-law—Giancarlo Ognissanti."

"Well…there's a twist," was all Christian could find to say.

"It seems that Signor Ognissanti either was persuaded or made the decision to take up the business his late sister-in-law, Paola, had once conducted. My conjecture is that it may have been a touch of both. The day the count departed here, after losing his battle with us and Mephistopheles over the marriage contract a few years ago, he mentioned something to me about having to pay off Giancarlo and Marina's debts. As he put it, it was 'eating up the money from Paola's end of the business'."

"Did it sound as if he approved?" Leslie asked. "Considering his nature…"

Roarke smiled again, making himself more comfortable in his chair. "He did not indicate either way his thoughts about the illicit end of his amakarna-growing operations, but I got the impression that he found Giancarlo to be lacking in initiative and possibly wit. He referred to him as 'that young weed'." Even Christian laughed at that. "In the count's eyes, Giancarlo apparently had no talent for anything in particular."

"I'd bet was the count's idea that Giancarlo take up Paola's business, then," Leslie remarked. "It'd be just like him to suggest it, and hand it off to Giancarlo, so he wouldn't have to get his own hands dirty—and at the same time, Giancarlo would be earning his own money and paying off his own debts."

"In a suitably devious and harmful way," Christian put in wearily. "How I wish that family could be put in its place, once and for all. They've caused more than enough havoc in mine and my family's lives, at the very least." He stared wistfully at Roarke. "Isn't there anything you can do, anything at all?"

"As I told Leslie, the LiSciolas are under the aegis of the Italian authorities, and I have no power to exert justice over them, however much they may deserve it. The best I can do is go to all possible lengths to keep black lightning, and those who traffic in it, off Fantasy Island. Although," he added, turning inward for a moment, "we seem to have a firsthand example of its possible side effects."

"Such as?" Christian prompted.

"Taro Sensei's youngest child, his daughter Tia—who may be a future classmate of Susanna, Karina and Tobias. She is approximately eleven months old, and her mother used black lightning during her pregnancy with her." Christian and Leslie winced in unison. "She appears healthy and alert; Taro's worries were that she had never smiled nor made any attempts to speak, as the triplets are now doing. She did smile at me, so it's possible there is no permanent damage on that front at the very least. What information exists indicates that the drug seems to somewhat delay certain specific developments in babies exposed to it before birth, although it's impossible to predict which ones. In Tia, at least, the delay seems tied to her speech development."

"What do you think will happen to her?" Leslie asked.

"Only time can answer that, my dear Leslie. In essence, the effects of black lightning are actually generally beneficial, but so concentrated as to be harmful to the user. At this point, it's not a matter of undue concern. However, if the condition persists much beyond her second birthday, it may be necessary to provide special tutoring. We can only wait to see what happens." Roarke looked up then, and the twinkle was back in his eyes. "But I am told that she smiles much more since the first time I saw her."

"And she responded to you, rather than to her own family?" Christian asked.

Roarke shrugged. "I have no explanation, Christian. But I do believe that Tia Sensei will be a very special child, in some manner yet unknown to us."

Leslie offered, "Maybe she has some sense that now that she's on Fantasy Island, she can relax and do her own thing, on her own time. Babies are pretty smart little characters, after all. We just have to learn how to interpret what they're trying to tell us."

"So," said Christian facetiously, but with a perfect poker face, "what you're saying is that every time Tobias unties my shoes, he's telling me to go barefoot like he does and learn to experience the good things in life, rather than letting myself get lost in that so-called 'computer fugue' you so enjoy disparaging." He grinned when Leslie bopped him in the arm and Roarke started to laugh.

"She may be right—and so may Tobias," Roarke said whimsically, making Christian laugh too. He watched his daughter and son-in-law tease each other, happy to see them in one piece and still in love, knowing they were in store for a lot of surprises—and looking forward to those surprises himself.

* * *

**A/N:** _The next story will deal with not only the family schism between Myeko and her ex-husband's parents, but with a little Tokita family history. Thanks again to PDXWiz, jtbwriter, Harry2, and Bishop T, as ever…and also a special thank you to Mishee for the recent and very welcome reviews!_


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